Meet Me By The Road
by Athena Alexandria
Summary: AU. What if Jack was Kate's childhood sweetheart, instead of Tom? When he moves away, her life falls apart. Returning years later, can he put the pieces back together?
1. Chapter 1

I hope you guys all had a nice Christmas.

I know – I lied when I said I was going to take a break. I don't do relaxation well. And I missed hearing from you guys. I had intended to write a sequel to Solace, but then I had this great idea for a new story. I was going to use it for something else, but I thought I'd try it out on you guys first. It's my take on an alternate history fic (I seem to be working my way through the list of classics!), so I have changed a lot of the characters' backstories, but in essence, they're the same. I've left the town generic, since Kate's hometown has never been revealed. And since I've always thought that Sam was one of Kate's saving graces, I've taken him out of the equation, which is why her last name is Jansen here. I've found it works better that way anyway, because it means she relies on Jack more to save her. I was actually going to write this story about Tom and Kate, but I figured that would alienate both the Jaters and the Skaters, so I've opted for Jack instead (they seem to be similar characters anyway). As we all know, in any life, Jack will always make it his mission to save Kate.

I'm also considering an appearance by Sawyer, but he won't be a very good guy, so let me know if you have any objections and I'll make up a new character.

Let me know if you like it, and if you want me to continue. I've got some pretty exciting stuff planned, including a killer conclusion – I think it's one of the best ideas I've had in a long time. As with all of my fics, the title has special significance, which I will explain later on.

Enjoy, and drop me a line. I love to hear what you guys think.

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Chapter 1. Homecoming

It had been almost twenty years since Jack Shephard had been home, to the place where he was born, the place where he had lived until a few weeks shy of his thirteenth birthday. That was when his parents had gotten divorced, his father taking the house and his medical practice in town, his mother taking her settlement and custody of him, packing him off to live with relatives in L.A.

He'd always meant to come back after high school, but life had a tendency to get in the way of even the best laid plans. Graduating top of his class, he'd been accepted into Berkeley, and he'd never looked back, not until he'd received word of his father's death a week ago. They hadn't been close; he hadn't seen the man in eight years, since his graduation from med school, but he was all the family Christian Shephard had, so he'd agreed to return long enough to bury his father.

But even that was too long.

Jack had never liked his birthplace. It was small and cramped and rustic, and everyone knew each other's business. He'd been only too happy not to return to school after the divorce, seeing what other kids in similar situations went through. Single-parent families still weren't that common then; having a mother and a father living under different roofs set you apart, and that was something no twelve year old wanted.

Jack was pretty sure he would never have considered setting foot there again once he'd made his escape if it wasn't for Kate. He'd promised to come back for her someday, and so far he hadn't. For all he knew, she was still here somewhere, married with a couple of kids, all thoughts of running away with him forgotten. She'd laugh if he mentioned it when they ran into each other on the street, chalking it up to the folly of youth; puppy love.

Kate. She'd be thirty-two now, not the skinny, freckled girl with the wild hair and sad green eyes he remembered from his childhood. The girl who climbed trees and rode horses and had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. The girl his mother said was a bad influence. She was still the first and only girl he'd ever truly loved, the standard to which he held all other women. Maybe that was why he still wasn't married, twenty years later. No woman could compete with those memories.

But that's all they were: memories. Kate Jansen, the girl he'd known, was gone, replaced by a stranger he no longer had anything in common with, even a postcode. That was why, he'd stayed away all of these years, because they'd long since fallen out of touch. By the time he was in a position to make good on his promise, it didn't make sense anymore.

Still, a part of him hoped he'd see her again, if only to sate his curiosity. She had always been so volatile, so unpredictable, that it was hard to tell what exactly she'd grow up to be. In the time that he'd known her, she'd never had any career plans; all of her dreams revolved around getting away.

He wondered if she'd done it. If anyone deserved a clean slate, it was her.

Kate hadn't had an easy childhood. Her mother worked in a diner and was never home, leaving her to take care of the house. Her father, Wayne, as Kate less than affectionately called him, was a drunk who scared Jack even more than he seemed to scare her. In the eight years they'd been friends, Jack had never made it over the threshold except on those occasions he was down the road at the bar. Even then, they'd never stayed long.

Kate didn't like to be there when he got home.

Jack had never asked her why, and she'd never told him, but he saw the bruises when they went swimming in the creek together. She kept them covered most of the time, but in the few seconds it took her to strip down to her bathing suit, or her underwear if she hadn't brought it, and jump into the water, she couldn't hide them from him, and he saw. He'd wanted to tell someone, his mother maybe, but he was young and frightened, and she was the ringleader. He never did anything without her approval. Except leave.

She'd cried the day he told her, the first and only time he'd ever seen her do it. She hadn't even cried when Wayne hit the old mare her mother bought her for her birthday with his truck. Instead, she went into his closet, took his riffle, and put a bullet into the horse's head without flinching when the vet told them she was beyond saving.

She was always the daredevil, the risk taker, the one with all the courage. Jack hadn't learned to be brave until after his mother had removed him from under her thumb.

And now he was a surgeon.

It had been a year since he'd finished his residency, and Jack could still count the number of patients he'd killed on one hand, so all in all, he wasn't doing too badly. He had a job that he loved, a nice apartment, nice friends, and a mother he was relatively close too.

It was amazing the difference his father's absence had made. Once Margo had learned to stop siding with Christian, and putting him ahead of their son, their relationship had changed drastically. Jack could safely say that he wouldn't have become half the man he had without her influence.

With Christian, things were pretty much the opposite. Though Jack had followed in his father's footsteps, becoming a doctor, he never wanted to be like him. He wasn't much better than Wayne: both were weak, both put themselves and their addictions ahead of their families, the only difference was that while Wayne's abuse was physical, Christian's was more cerebral. Jack had never had the bruises Kate had growing up, but he was pretty sure he could match her for emotional scarring.

He wasn't glad Christian was dead, but he wasn't sure he was as sorry as he should be. The sight of his father's lifeless body hadn't killed him; he felt numb staring into the coffin that morning at the funeral home, any tears he had for his father long since dried up. He could only imagine the talk his stony expression would incite at the funeral tomorrow, as he delivered the lukewarm eulogy he had laboured over all week. He was pretty sure the word "ungrateful" would come up, mixed in with slurs on his mother and L.A. for making him think he was too good for this place, even if he was.

His father was something of a local hero, saving everyone except his family and himself. Whatever respects Jack paid him would never be good enough in their eyes; he would never be able to put up a convincing enough front of grief.

It didn't matter though, because once his father had been committed to the earth, and the keys to his home and practice handed over, Jack was out of there again, and this time, he wasn't coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews. Glad to see some new faces, or names, at least.

I haven't received any objections about using Sawyer yet, so he gets his first mention in chapter 3, and he will appear in chapter 4. Don't worry though, this is still a Jate story. Sawyer won't even be the primary source of conflict. That will come from the time and distance between them, and the hurt feelings that still exist after all this time. Oh, and the usual Kate-needing-help-but-being-evasive- about-it and Jack-always-having-to-save-her set-up.

Enjoy, and review. It helps the creative process... just kidding. It does inspire me to write faster though.

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Chapter 2. Confused

Jack was laying his notes on the dais when he saw her slip into the back of the church, a long black coat concealing the fact that she wasn't properly attired for a funeral. It had been almost twenty years since he'd seen her, but he would have known her anywhere. She was taller now, five foot seven or eight, and older, but she still had the same unruly dark curls that even a ponytail couldn't keep out of her face, the same high cheekbones and tight lips, the same freckles, though they seemed to have faded with age.

The only difference that struck him was her eyes. Where once Jack could almost read her thoughts by probing into their depths, they were unfathomable to him now, hard and smooth, like tinted glass. He tried to catch them as she took a seat in the last pew, near the door, but she ducked her head, staring intently at her tennis shoes. Either she hadn't seen him, standing there at the front of the church, or she was ignoring him.

Jack couldn't help but be a little confused. While Margo, at least, had been civil to her, despite viewing her as an uncouth farm girl, Christian had always ignored Kate, even when she stayed for dinner. Jack couldn't imagine her caring much about his death, so if she wasn't there to pay her respects, and she wasn't there to see him, why had she come to his father's funeral?

He waited a moment, but her eyes never left the ground, not until he turned back to the crowd of mourners. Once he started speaking, she looked up at him, taking him in, but she didn't smile or wave, or otherwise acknowledge him, listening to his eulogy with a guarded expression.

As he stepped down again, Jack couldn't help noticing that, as he'd expected, his detached goodbye had failed to bring anyone, even his father's current mistress, to tears. That job was reserved for his godfather, Christian's best friend and partner at the practice, who gave his shoulder a half-hearted squeeze as they passed on the stairs.

Ignoring the disappointed murmur that spread through the crowd as he returned to his seat in the front pew, Jack couldn't help peeking furtively over his shoulder, to the back of the church. Kate was still there, but by the time he managed to catch her eye, his godfather had started speaking and he had to turn around.

He looked for her again, after the service, spotting her gathering her purse as she prepared to leave, but before he could approach her, a sea of grieving townspeople amassed on him, and he was forced to listen as they paid their respects.

By the time they'd finished telling him what a wonderful man his father was, and said wonderful man had been carried into the churchyard, she was gone, leaving him even more confused than before.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Never The Twain Shall Meet

By the time they'd sealed his father's grave, Jack was sick of having to talk about him, so he decided to skip the wake and go in search of Kate instead. He wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined her appearance at the church, and if possible, find out why she'd left so abruptly.

He wasn't afraid anymore, but he didn't want to have to deal with Wayne, so he didn't go by her old house. Instead, he managed to learn from one of the mourners, a friend of his mother's, and one of the town's biggest gossips, that she worked at the same diner as her mother, so he decided to approach her there. When he'd seen her, she wasn't dressed for a funeral, in tennis shoes, socks, and a coat that covered what was presumably her pink work dress, so he guessed she'd been on her way to work. It made sense. The funeral had gone on for longer than expected; if she'd been hurrying to make her shift, she wouldn't have had time to wait.

As he crossed the sleepy streets to the centre of town, Jack considered this piece of information. Kate worked at Joe's. So she hadn't left, even after twenty years. Was that because she'd finally learned to be happy, or because she'd given up? He hoped it was the former, but he wasn't sure. She wasn't married, he knew that much, because her last name was still the same, so that probably took the kids out of the equation too, unless she was a single mother. He was pretty sure she wouldn't like working at the diner, because she'd always complained about having to help her mother there after school. She hated serving people, taking orders and delivering burgers; though she'd never said as much, Jack knew by the proud look she'd get on her face when she argued with a customer that she was convinced she was better than that, and she was. She was smart. He'd been sure she would go to college, somewhere far away, like New York. When he was thirteen, and missing her fiercely at his new school, he would tell himself it would be in L.A., with him. Some days at Berkeley, he'd still expected to see her crossing the quad, her chestnut curls shining in the California sun, her green eyes dancing with delight at finally being free.

Whatever her situation, she hadn't looked happy when he'd seen her. She'd looked eerily like her mother, tired and trapped. He hoped that was just his imagination embellishing on the little he knew of her life.

When he reached the diner, Jack pushed open the door, smiling at the familiar way the little bell tinkled overhead. Once, he'd heard that sound every day, rushing into the kitchen to find Kate as soon as his mother released him from homework and afternoon chores. He'd help her refill the ketchup, or wash the dishes, or whatever task her mother had assigned her, and then they'd go down to the creek, or the road leading out of town, to watch the cars disappear over the horizon, waiting for the day when theirs would be among them.

She was supposed to meet him there the day he left, but she never showed up. For months, he'd worried that Wayne had finally put her in the hospital, or worse, until he'd come to the painful realisation that she was mad at him. He wrote to her every day, but she never wrote back. By the time they reached high school, his letters had become less and less frequent, until he met Marc. Once they started hanging out at each others' houses, his letters to Kate ceased completely. She hadn't returned them, but he'd never received confirmation that she'd read them either. He convinced himself that she'd burned them, like she had the love letter James Ford had given her in the fourth grade, when Jack and Kate had already been "going out" for close to two years. Since their version of dating wasn't all that different to being best friends, they'd never officially broken up, even when Jack left.

But that was in the past. She couldn't still be angry with him, twenty years later. It was too long to hold a grudge, especially when it wasn't his choice to leave.

She was pouring coffee for another customer when he sat down at the counter, but she didn't come over when she saw him, even to take his order. Jack watched as she walked right past him, conferring with another waitress, before heading into the kitchen. The other waitress, a matronly woman in her forties, approached him instead, her pen hovering over her order book as she curtly asked him what he wanted.

Jack wasn't hungry after the morning's events, so he just ordered coffee, asking, as politely as his growing irritation would allow, if he could speak to Kate.

"This isn't a night club," the waitress, whose name, he read, was Margaret, said. "It's a place of business. And she has a boyfriend. If you're looking to pick up, I suggest you try the bar down the road."

So Kate had a boyfriend. That was something, Jack supposed, though he was dubious of her chances of meeting the kind of man she deserved here, after all the decent ones had gone off to college, and like him, stayed away. "I'm not trying to pick anyone up," he stated for the record, wondering what she'd told this woman during their brief conversation to lead her to such a conclusion. He had tracked her down, yes, but it wasn't like he was stalking her. He just wanted to talk. "I'm an old friend," he added, hoping this would lend his words credibility.

Margaret sized him up warily as she poured his coffee. She must have believed him, because she softened as she said, "Yeah, well, she doesn't want to talk to you, so I suggest you drink your coffee and leave."

So she was mad at him then. Jack had to admit, he was surprised. He'd always believed the cliché, that time healed all wounds, but it obviously hadn't healed whatever pain he had inadvertently inflicted on Kate.

A lesser man would have walked away, chastened but this response, but Kate's resistance only strengthened Jack's resolve to see her. He wanted to smooth over the differences between them, to explain his actions, and walk away with a clear conscience. "Please, just five minutes, okay?" he said, appealing to Margaret with the same charming smile he used on the nurses at St. Sebastian's when he needed a favour. "You can even listen in if you want."

Margaret still looked unsure, but she disappeared into the kitchen after Kate. There was a brief, heated conversation, of which Jack heard only snatches, and then she returned with the younger woman in tow.

"Hi," Jack said when he saw her, feeling himself revert back into his shy, awkward, twelve year old self now that she was standing in front of him. It had been almost twenty years, and she still had that affect on him.

She crossed her arms over her chest, determined not to give him the slightest bit of encouragement, as she asked, "What do you want, Jack?" in a clipped tone. Her poker face had improved considerably; Jack couldn't tell what she was thinking, or whether she was really angry.

"I just wanted to see you," he said, keeping the smile to himself this time. He didn't want her to think he was kidding, that this was some kind of game.

"Well, you have. Twice." She reached for his cup, trying to hurry him out of the diner, but he wasn't ready to go yet. Not until he knew she was okay, with him, and the path her life had taken. "So unless you want your coffee refilled, I don't have to talk to you."

The words were out of Jack's mouth before he could stop them. "So refill it."

Kate looked shocked, her hand hovering uncertainly over his coffee cup. "What?"

Jack could understand her surprise. Until now, he hadn't known he was capable of standing up to her either. "You said you didn't have to talk to me unless I wanted my coffee refilled," he explained, "so refill it." He threw a handful of dollar bills onto the table to show that he was serious.

Margaret cracked a little smile, but she didn't say anything as she headed to the other end of the counter to check on the other customers.

Kate watched her go helplessly, then turned back to Jack, searching his eyes with her careworn green ones. "Stop it, Jack. You're being childish," she softly, but she refilled his cup anyway, setting the coffee pot down as she added, "You have your life, and I have mine. Never the twain shall meet." Again, Jack was reminded that she was meant for more than small town life. "Just drink your coffee and go, before James sees you. If he finds out you've been here…" She trailed off, either unsure, or unwilling to consider, what "James" would do if he saw her talking to Jack.

"James?" he repeated, wondering if he was supposed to know who she was talking about. He hadn't known anyone called James since the seventh grade.

"Yeah. James Ford. My boyfriend."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews. Now that I've set up the basic premise, things should get more interesting. I know Kate's being pretty awful to Jack, but she has a good reason for being so angry, I promise. You'll find out what it is when Jack does, in about chapter 6. I know you're all a little concerned about the introduction of Sawyer too, but don't worry, I know where I'm going with this, and by your comments, I'm pretty sure you do to. He's really not that important to the story, except to show where Kate is in her life, and how Jack leaving has changed her. As I said before, this is a Jate story, so that's what I'm focusing on.

Now that I've put your fears to rest, enjoy this chapter. Everything is still kind of vague, but you'll get more of an idea of Kate's situation, particularly in relation to Sawyer. And of course Jack being heroic is always good...

Don't forget to review. The more interest I get, the more inspired I'll be to keep up the (almost) daily updates. (I never thought I was going to be one of those people who tries to blackmail people into reviewing, but this is what I've had to resort to... Three reviews per chapter? I've seen one shots with way more. There has to be more people reading...! Although a lot of people are probably still away...)

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Chapter 4. You Can't Save Me

"James Ford?" Jack repeated, incredulous. Back when he'd known her, Kate had had tussles with James almost every day at school. She'd even broken his nose once, when he started calling her "Freckles". "But you hated him."

"Yeah, well, things change. I've changed. Or hadn't you noticed?"

As he watched her walk away, Jack knew this was true. Things changed, and so did people. He was closer to Kate than anyone else in the world once. But that was twenty years ago. He didn't know her anymore.

He swallowed the rest of his coffee, and stood, tossing a fifty-dollar bill onto the table with the rest of the notes. If she was still working for minimum wage, he figured she could probably do with a decent tip. It really was the least he could do for her.

He was on his way to the door when it banged open, bell jingling wildly, to admit a tall man with long blonde hair and a stubbly beard. The stranger ignored him, sauntering up behind Kate, and sliding his arms around her waist.

She started, then relaxed a little, seeing it was him, but not all the way, Jack noticed. After eight years of dealing with patients, he'd become something of an expert at reading body language, and hers was distinctly uncomfortable. In fact, she looked relieved when the blonde man released her, like she couldn't stand the feeling of his hands on her.

This must be James, he thought, wondering, once again, why she was with a man she'd hated as a child, a man who'd picked on her, and not just in the usual troglodyte-with-a-crush kind of way. He'd been downright mean to her at times, taunting her about Wayne, stealing things from her backpack, and goading her into fights, tackling her, then making suggestive comments once he had her on the ground.

It had bothered Jack at the time, the way he'd treated her, but now… the idea that she would willingly give him what he'd tried to take from her all those times, that power, that consent… that revolted him, and he found he couldn't leave her. Not yet. Not until he talked some sense into her.

They weren't married yet, and as far as he knew, they didn't have any children. It wasn't too late for her to walk out on him and come to L.A. The hospital was always looking for administrators. He could get her a job, find her a place to live, and then he would have kept his promise. He would have set her free. She couldn't hate him anymore then, couldn't blame him for the shambles her life was in. And he wouldn't have to blame himself, because he knew that if he left again today, liked he'd planned, he always would.

Changing course, Jack headed back in her direction.

She had turned to speak to a customer, so James saw him first, a malicious grin spreading over his face in anticipation of the coming confrontation. "Well, if it isn't Jackass—" he laughed "–sorry, Jack, Shephard. You've got some nerve, showing your face in here."

Jack felt himself tense, like he always did when he was forced to speak to sub-humans like James Ford. "It's a public building. I'm allowed to get coffee, aren't I?"

"Not from my girlfriend, you ain't," James spat back, his eyes livid at what he saw as insolence on Jack's part (it kind of was, but it wasn't like he hadn't deserved it), and Jack couldn't help coming to the sudden realisation that Kate's boyfriend couldn't care less where he got his caffeine.

Kate must have picked up on the innuendo here too, because she dropped her order pad, reaching out to touch her boyfriend's arm. "James…" She trailed off as he rounded on her, flinching almost imperceptibly. It was only slightly, and she recovered fast, but still, Jack saw it.

"Stay out of this, Katie," James snapped, yanking her hand off his bicep too roughly for Jack's liking. He felt himself tense up again, this time, in preparation for a fight.

"You've never been able to see straight where he's concerned," James continued, letting go of Kate, and turning to look Jack in the eyes, through his words were addressed to her. "He thinks he's better than us, with his college degree, and his city apartment. You think that doesn't include you? He doesn't care about you, or where's he been all these years? The only reason he's here, talking to you now is because I took something from him, and he thinks he's got some God-given right to get it back."

He shifted his stance, posturing, the challenge clear, not just in his words and voice, but ever fibre of his body. "Well she ain't yours anymore, doc, so you'd best be going on your way."

Jack had managed to keep his composure until then, but at that moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted to hit him. If Kate hadn't been there, watching the exchange, he probably would have. But his relationship with her was precarious enough as it was. Punching her boyfriend's lights out in front of her wasn't going to inspire her to trust him.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to let go of his anger. But spinal surgeon or not, he was only human. If he was going to back down from a fight, he couldn't resist getting in one last jab first.

He turned to Kate. Her eyes were wide with fear, but it subsided a little when she saw that he wasn't going to engage. "If you need anything," he said, emphasising the last word, "I'll be staying at the Sunset Motor Inn." He hadn't checked in yet, but he figured they'd have a vacancy. It may have been one of only two motels in the area, but this wasn't exactly a tourist town.

She wasn't as incensed as Jack thought she would be. She gave him a tiny nod, too small for James to see it. Of course, he could have imagined it, but he didn't think so.

Satisfied that she would find him again if she needed him, Jack acknowledged James with a parting nod, grinning to show that he wasn't intimidated. James took a step forward like a provoked pit bull, but he didn't attack, though Jack could feel his hate-filled eyes on him all the way to the door.

He called out a goodbye to Margaret, and let himself onto the street, wondering where he should go in the mean time. Checking his watch, he decided that his father's wake would still be in progress, and most of the townspeople, barring people like Kate and Margaret, would be there, but he didn't want to wait too long before signing over the deeds to the house and his father's practice. His relationship with his father had been so rocky, and damaging, that he just wanted it to be over. He wanted to move on.

He was just trying to decide whether or not it would be worth heading over to the complex that housed both his father's lawyer and the real estate office, when at door at the back of the diner swung open, and Kate emerged, carrying a black garbage bag. She offered him a small smile as she headed towards the dumpster. Taking this as encouragement, Jack met her there, holding the lid up for her while she hoisted it on top of the pile.

"Thanks," she said, wiping her palms on the sides of her dress. She looked up at him seriously as she added, "Listen, I just wanted to apologise for what happened in there. James… he gets a little jealous sometimes. He shouldn't have said all those things."

Jack shrugged dismissively. "Water under the bridge."

She looked grateful at this, her smile widening into what could almost be considered a friendly grin, were it not for her eyes, and Jack realised that this was his chance. He had her alone, and she was actually talking to him. Maybe now she would listen.

"You know, you shouldn't let him intimidate you like that," he said, trying to keep his tone as conversational, and non-judgmental, as he could.

That obviously wasn't how it sounded to her, because her temper flared again, her grin disappearing, the walls going up, shutting him out. He'd lost her. "That's none of your business," she said coldly, stalking back in the direction she'd come.

"I was just trying to help." Jack help up his hands to placate her, following her to the back door.

When they reached it, she rounded on him, her eyes exuding, not anger, like he'd imagined, but pain. He'd hurt her somehow. Again. "I know," she said. "I've read the papers. You're a big shot L.A. surgeon now. You save people. But you can't save me, Jack. So just do us both a favour, and don't try."

Stepping into the kitchen, she slammed the door in his face, leaving him feeling guilty, and bewildered about it. All he wanted to do was help her. Why was she making it so hard?


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for your reviews. I know, James is a jerk, but of course, Jack would never hit him. Not in front of Kate, anyway. They may come to blows later though. Especially after what happens in chapter 6. I was on a roll, so here are three new chapters for you. In chapter 7, you'll learn pretty much everything you ever wanted to know about Kate (and probably some things you didn't), including why she's so angry at Jack, and why she never wrote back.

Enjoy, and review. I've learned how to read the stats, so I know there's more than 13 people reading (less even since a few of you guys have reviewed more than once). So please, please, let me know what you think, even if it's just a few words! I won't improve as a writer otherwise.

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Chapter 5. Only For One Night

Once he left the diner, Jack found himself in limbo. Barring the execution of his father's will, there was nothing tying him there except his conscience, which, up until that morning, had been relatively clear.

Kate had made it pretty clear that she wasn't looking for a white knight, even in the shape of an old friend. So why did he still feel responsible for her? Why couldn't he just stick to his original plan, when he had a mother, and patients, who really did need him, and weren't afraid to admit it, waiting for him at home in L.A.?

Jack really thought he'd left Kate in the past, with his father, and all of the other things he'd tried to forget over the years, but here she was, haunting his present, stirring up feelings he didn't even know he had anymore. It had been so long; why was a tiny part of him still in love with her? A frighteningly large part, actually. He didn't even know her as an adult; all he had to go on were the hazy childhood memories he'd cherished for the past twenty years, and he didn't even know how real they were anymore.

Maybe it was because he'd never really dealt with them, the feelings he still held towards her, the ones that had remained long after all contact between them had ceased. He'd moved on, boxing those memories up with the rest of his childhood possessions, but he'd never really let go of her, which was why he was trying to do it now.

The only thing Jack knew for certain was that he couldn't leave things like this. He'd try to talk to her again before he left, tomorrow when they'd both had a chance to cool down. He doubted she'd listen to him if he mentioned James again, but he could at least clear the air between them by apologising for interfering in something that really wasn't his business anyway.

But right now, he needed to finish putting his father's affairs in order. That part of the moving on process, at least, he could control.

He wandered the streets for another hour or so, not really seeing anything, except where it reminded him of Kate, until he was sure that anyone with a life, or a business, would have headed back to work. Then he made his way over to his father's lawyer's office, to sort out what remained of Christian's will.

They'd already discussed the contents; there were no surprises there. As his father's sole child and heir (barring the illegitimate offspring Christian was too ashamed to name, and from what his mother had told him only recently, there was at least one), almost everything had been passed on to him, though there wasn't any legacy of Christian's that he really wanted. All Jack had ever really wanted from his father was an explanation, about why he'd always been so hard on him, why he'd only ever been interested in his failures, and Christian had taken that with him to the grave.

The divorce settlement, and the maintenance they'd received, had been enough that he wasn't in any debt, even from medical school. Materially, at least, his father had always taken care of him.

Let his other child have it all, Jack thought, the one he wasn't supposed to know about, the one who'd broken up his family. She hadn't even had the benefit of a figurehead for a father; she deserved the compensation more than him.

Once he'd signed his name so many times it had lost all meaning, Jack left the lawyer to deal with the rest of Christian's estate, picking his car up from his father's house, and driving to the motel he'd told Kate he would be staying at. He doubted she'd show up, but he wanted her to be able to find him if she reconsidered his offer of help.

Sure enough, the Sunset Motor Inn had almost a dozen vacancies, so Jack chose a room with a semi-decent view of the surrounding farmland, changing out of his suit, ordering take-out, and doing his best to settle in to his temporary home.

It's only for one night, he told himself, by way of consolation, trying to ignore the niggling doubt at the back of his mind. As soon as he'd fixed things with Kate, he could go back to L.A., and try to forget this place for good.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6. It Was About You

He told himself that it was only for one night, but of course, it didn't turn out that way.

After he'd finished unpacking the basics, Jack sat down on the bed to wait for his food. He still wasn't as hungry as he knew he should be, but he hadn't eaten since yesterday, so he figured he should at least make an attempt.

The room was too quiet, as was the street outside, so he switched on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found a program that looked halfway decent, but five minutes later, he still had no idea what was going on.

He switched the TV off again, paid the deliveryman when he turned up a few minutes later, and ate his dinner in silence, relieved when the clock finally struck ten and he could go to bed without feeling ridiculous.

It had started to rain by then, beating out a steady rhythm on the roof of the motel, so when sleep wouldn't come, Jack lay there listening to it, his thoughts returning to Kate. Everything here reminded him of her; right then, he was remembering how, when it started raining like this, and he ran for cover, she would pull him back, laughing as the water washed over them, soaking their clothes.

He'd always thought she was beautiful, wild and carefree, but not that he was older, Jack wondered if there wasn't something of a self-destructive urge in her impulsive behaviour too. She was carefree, but in a hopeless, despairing kind of way; she didn't seem to care if she got sick, or hurt, or worse. Maybe that was why she was with James now, because she didn't care. Not that that was any of his business, he reminded himself.

It was after midnight, and the rain had eased up only slightly, when Jack finally began to drift off to sleep. He was just slipping into his first dream of the night, something about the hospital, when he was woken by a soft knock at the door, almost too soft to be heard over the rain. At first he wondered if he'd dreamed it, but then he heard it again a few seconds later, louder this time.

He rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock. It was 12:27, too late for visitors. He wondered vaguely if it was James, come to fight him now that Kate was out of the way, but there was nothing aggressive about that knock. It was gentle, timid, the knock of someone who was afraid of how they'd be received, someone who'd sworn they didn't need his help, perhaps, and was now swallowing their misplaced pride…

Sure enough, it was Kate, wet and dishevelled, her stringy curls hanging in her face as she kept her head down, avoiding his eyes.

Wordlessly, Jack led her inside, out of the rain, retrieving a clean towel from the bathroom. She smiled gratefully as he handed it to her, forgetting herself for a moment as she ran it over her face and hair, exposing an inch-long gash on her cheekbone that Jack knew for a fact hadn't been there this morning. It was definitely fresh, a heavy purple bruise colouring the surrounding skin, raising the possibility of a fracture in Jack's mind. Whatever, or whoever, had hit her, had hit her hard.

He knew he should tread carefully, but the sick feeling he'd had all day when he thought of her had morphed into anger at the sight of that wound. "What happened, Kate?" he asked, his voice coming out harsher than he'd intended.

She lowered the towel, staring at the spot of blood left by her cheek. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Nothing?" he repeated incredulously. "You're not even going to try to make excuses for him?"

She wrung the towel in her hands, pacing like a caged animal in front of him. "I really don't want to talk about it, Jack, okay? I came to see you."

Jack wanted to believe that this was true, but she was an expert liar, she always had been. "Why Kate?" he asked. "Would you still be here if he hadn't…?" She looked away, confirming his fears. She was only here because she had nowhere else to go. "Help me out here, because I'm trying to understand," he said, his mood still wavering between incredulity and irritation. "I tell you you shouldn't let him treat you the way he does, and you tell me it's none of my business. But then he hits you, and mine is the first door you come knocking on?"

The vulnerability he'd been privy to a second ago disappeared, as she dropped the towel onto the bed, heading for the door. "You're right, it was stupid. Goodnight Jack."

He could have let her go, it would have been easier, but he was pretty sure this chance would never come again. If he closed the door on her now, she would never come back. "No," he said, positioning himself between her and the exit. "You've been dodging me all day, Kate. Please, talk to me."

"I really shouldn't be here. James…" she said, trailing off hopelessly, seeing the determined look he'd fixed her with.

"James what? Will hit you again? Not if I get my hands on him first."

Her eyes were pleading as she said, "Jack, don't. It was my fault, okay? I shouldn't have gone after you at the diner."

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, the sick feeling returning as he anticipated her answer. "What was the fight about?"

She bit her lip, staring at the floor, the window, the blank TV screen, before finally resting her gaze on him. "You," she said softly. "It was about you, Jack."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7. Why Didn't You Wait?

Jack sank to the bed, disbelieving. "Me? I've barely been in town twenty-four hours. Today was the first time I've spoken to you in twenty years. What could I possibly have done to make him jealous?" He felt a stab of guilt, remembering his parting comment at the diner. That couldn't be it, could it? He'd implied that there was more to their relationship than there actually was, that he wanted more. Had James believed him and taken it out on Kate?

"You didn't have to do anything," she said, alleviating at least some of his fears, though this didn't make him feel any less guilty. "He's been jealous of you for the last twenty years, Jack."

"Why?" he asked, finding it hard to believe that someone could hold a grudge that long. It was one thing for Kate to have been angry with him all these years, he'd hurt her, badly too, but James?

"Because he knows he can't compete with what we had, what we should have had. That the only reason he and I are together is because you left. He's loved me as long as you have, Jack, but I never loved him. Not in the same way."

Jack dropped his head into his hands, trying to digest this information. All those years he'd spent trying to get over her, and she'd been in love with him the whole time. "If that's how you felt, then why didn't you return any of my letters?" he asked.

"Because I hated you for leaving," she said, her expression hardening again. "Why didn't you wait?"

Jack jumped to his feet, his own temper flaring. She couldn't keep blaming him the decision his mother had made. "I was twelve years old, Kate. I didn't have a choice."

"Yes you did. The day you left, you were supposed to meet me by the road, to say goodbye…"

"I went there, but you never showed up."

My Mom wouldn't let me! Wayne passed out… we had to take him to the hospital. When I got there, you were gone. Why didn't you wait?" She broke down, her hard exterior crumbling, exposing the wounded child Jack had left behind all those years ago. "You left me alone with that monster," she cried, launching herself at him, flailing harmlessly at his chest with sloppy, uncontrolled blows. "Do you have any idea what he…?" Jack tried to soothe her, but she pulled away, trailing off, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

"What he what, Kate?" he asked, terrified of her answer. "What he did to you? What did he do to you? How did you get to be like this?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, drawing herself up to her full height, proud and as stubborn as ever, though her eyes were swollen now, her pale face marred by the angry red wound on her cheek.

"Obviously it does," he pressed, but she stared him down defiantly as he searched her eyes for an answer.

When he turned away, unable to stand the sight of her looking so wretched, and yet so determined not to let him help, she headed back towards the door, murmuring, "I have to go."

He wasn't there to stop her this time, so he grabbed her wrist, anchoring her to him. "Not until you tell me what he did."

Her whole body froze at his touch, and he felt a slight tremor go through her. She was afraid of him. He dropped her arm, horrified.

She didn't answer; she didn't have to, because it was all there in her eyes: the pain, the fear, and above all, the shame. She didn't have to answer, because he knew, just by looking at her, the knowledge nearly bowling him over, forcing him onto the bed again.

"Oh God, Kate…"

"Don't," she said firmly, anticipating his next words.

"Don't what?" he asked, amazed at how calm she was, that she was still able to function. He couldn't even imagine what it must be like to be her.

"Don't look at me like that, like you feel sorry for me. It makes me sick."

She was doing her best to hold herself together, and he was making it worse. He wanted to snap out of it, for her, but the horror was still too fresh in his mind. As hard as he tried, he couldn't channel his thoughts elsewhere. "I didn't know…" he said, realising how stupid that sounded.

She did too, laughing sardonically, and suddenly all the bitterness he'd seen in her made sense. "No one did. Isn't that the point? Keeping it in the family?

"It was just my Mom, Wayne and me. She didn't believe me at first, but… I guess the knowledge started to rot away at her after a while, because she got sick not long after it started. She died when I was sixteen."

She didn't have to tell him how this made her feel, because Jack finally understood. First her stepfather, Sam, had abandoned her, then him, then her mother, emotionally, then finally, physically, leaving her alone in that house with Wayne.

She must have sensed his train of thought from his expression, because she added, "Don't worry. He didn't last long after that. He was coming home from the bar one night, and he wrapped his truck around a tree. There was barely enough of him left to bury." The sardonic grin returned as she added, "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

Jack thought about this for a moment, doing his best to push the horrific images she'd given him out of his mind as he asked, "Why didn't you call me then? I would have come for you if you'd asked."

By the look on her face, she'd thought about it, at the time, and many times since. "I hadn't gotten a letter from you in more than three years. I figured you'd lost interest." She shrugged, a little too casually. "It's not like it would have made any difference anyway. I may have been just a kid, but I wasn't stupid. I know your mother never liked me. She never thought I was good enough. Do you really think she would have let me come live with you?" Jack didn't, but he didn't say anything. "I bet she was glad I never bothered you after you left."

"I wasn't," he told her, relieved that he was finally getting a chance to set her straight, to remind her that she'd given up on him long before he'd given up on her. "I waited for months, worrying about you, but when I didn't hear from you… I didn't want to move on, but you didn't give me a choice. I couldn't keep having a one-sided relationship with you. I needed to be around people who actually acknowledged me." He looked up at her, waiting for her reaction as he added, "I never even knew if you read them."

Jack hands were hanging between his knees, as he sat on the bed, his elbows resting on his thighs. Kate sat down on the mattress beside him, pulling a bundle of worn and faded papers from her purse, and pressing them into his open fingers. He stared at her for a moment, then turned his attention to the paper in his hands, the paper she had given him.

His letters. Every one of them, tied together with a faded blue ribbon. He loosened the bow, letting them rest in his lap as he picked up the first one, the most recent. It was carefully folded, still in its envelop, but the paper was crumpled and water-marked, the ink running together in places. As he skimmed over his childish handwriting, smiling at the clumsy phrasing, she touched his arm gently.

"I read them."


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for your reviews. I won't reply personally, because I know the email system isn't working at the moments, but I will add my comments here. You're right, ms metaphor, that song does fit (I love The Goo Goo Dolls by the way), but that wasn't in the list of songs I've been influenced by in this fic. I got Sandi Thom's album for christmas, so I've been listening to that a lot, particularly "Lonely Girl", which I think describes my Kate well, and "Sunset Borderline", which is about a lost first love, as is The Dixie Chicks' "Voice In My Head". I've also been listening to Coldplay's "A Rush Of Blood To The Head". I know my Sawyer is a jerk, and that's kind of ignoring the progress he's made, but it's necessary. I could have made up a new character, but I thought it would be fun to include him, along with references to a few other characters (Claire, and Ana, who for the record, I still think should have been with Sawyer). Thanks everyone for your comments on my writing style, I try to make sure everything flows well, so I'm glad that you've noticed. I'm putting up two new chapters which I think you'll like, it's more of Jack and Kate in the motel room, but they've got a lot to work through, so it does advance their relationship.

I think one of the reasons I don't get many reviews is because I don't write enough sex, or any, actually, in my stories. I know it's what everyone wants to see in a fan fic, but it doesn't make sense to me that after twenty years, while Kate still has a boyfriend, Jack and Kate would jump into bed together just because they're alone in a motel room. If it feels right later, I will include it, but at the moment, they need to work on rebuilding their friendship. Although, as you'll see in chapter 9, there's definitely an attraction there.

Enjoy, review, and I'll try to update again soon.

* * *

Chapter 8. Friends

She wouldn't let him take her to the hospital, but she did let him stitch up the wound. It didn't feel fractured; he probed the area gently with his fingers, making her flinch, but the bone seemed to be intact. That was something to be grateful for, at least. She'd probably have a scar, but that would fade in time.

It wasn't the scars he could see that Jack was worried about though, but the ones that were there long before James ever laid a finger on her. He had to get her out of this town, away from Wayne, away from James, away from all the other men who'd ever hurt her here. This place was destroying her. He couldn't just stand by and let it happen.

"Has this happened before?" Jack asked her when he'd finished closing up the wound. He taped a piece of gauze over it to protect it from infection, not really caring if James knew he'd treated it, in spite of Kate's protests. Maybe if he knew that Jack had seen his handiwork, he wouldn't touch her like that again. It was one thing to hit a one hundred a twenty pound woman, but did he really want to take Jack on too?

It was a nice thought, and Jack wanted to believe it, but he knew it was too late for that. If it was already a pattern of behaviour with him…

Though she couldn't turn her face away from him this time, Kate wouldn't look at him either, making her answer pretty clear. Jack couldn't believe this was happening; she'd always thought her mother was so weak for refusing to stand up to Wayne. When had she become so broken herself? Was it Wayne, or had she lied when she said she didn't really love James?

"How many times?" he pressed.

"I don't know." She ran her fingers pensively over the bandage. "I don't remember."

Jack finished packing the medical supplies into his first aid kit, and pushed it aside, sitting beside her on the bed. "You should have gone to the police, Kate," he said gently, reaching over to push a lock of hair out of her eyes.

She looked up at him, not angry anymore, but tired, all of the fight gone out of her, along with her pride. "You know what this place is like, Jack," she said. "It's not that uncommon. The police don't have time to deal with it."

As much as Jack wanted to march her down to the station right then, he knew she was right. It wouldn't do any good. Even if they arrested him, James would be back on the street tomorrow, incensed, and looking for someone to take it out on. Someone like Kate. He couldn't do that to her. But wasn't going to let him hurt her again either.

"I don't think you should go back there tonight," he told her, figuring it would be better to let James get his head together before either of them confronted him again.

He expected her to argue, but she didn't, looking miserable as she confessed, "He's all I've got. Why do you think we're still together? I don't have anywhere else to go."

Jack wasn't sure if this was a hint, or a veiled request, but he took it as such, telling her, "I'll take the floor."

She smiled at him, her first real smile. "Why are you being so nice to me, Jack, after everything?"

There were about a million ways he could answer this question, a million different reasons for his wanting to help her, but he decided to go with the simplest. "Because we're friends."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9. Truth Or Dare

Kate's clothes were still wet from the rain, so Jack lent her a t-shirt, and she crawled into bed while he settled himself on the floor beside her. An awkward silence fell over them, and he couldn't help wondering if her thoughts were along the same line as his.

Probably not, he decided, after a moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way the t-shirt only came halfway down her thighs, leaving the rest of her long legs bare.

It wasn't like they hadn't had sleepovers before; in kindergarten, when they'd first met, they'd even slept in the same bed. But now, twenty-eight years later, this was something he couldn't even bring himself to contemplate. Their relationship had always been so innocent, so chaste; it felt wrong to be thinking about her like this, like he would any other beautiful woman sleeping in his bed, especially after everything she'd just told him about Wayne.

Jack knew he should be more concerned about that fact that she had a boyfriend than he was, but that just didn't seem to come into it, not now that he knew that given a choice, she'd choose him.

It was strange, the idea of being with Kate in that way. He'd spent the last twenty years waiting for her, subconsciously, at least, but now that that it wasn't just a dream, it scared him. They'd both built up so many expectations; what if it didn't work out? Their lives were so different; Jack didn't want to hurt her again when she was just starting to forgive him, to add to the emotional debris that already littered her turbulent life. It would be better never to be with her at all.

He turned to face the wall, willing himself to focus on the rain, not the sound of her breathing, so close he could almost reach out and touch her. He needed to keep his head clear, at least until he was sure that it wasn't just nostalgia and loneliness making him think this way about her.

He was saved from any more of these, what he considered inappropriate, thoughts, when she turned on the light by the bed, squinting down at him while her eyes readjusted. "Want to play truth or dare?" she asked with a mischievous grin, the old Kate resurfacing from somewhere beneath all the nightmares and bad memories. It as always her favourite game as a kid.

"It's the middle of the night, Kate," he said, shielding his eyes. "And you have to work in the morning. Don't you think we should be getting some sleep?"

"I can't sleep. I never sleep well in strange beds, you should remember that."

He hadn't, but again, he felt his body temperature begin to rise, thinking about her in his bed. He focused his energy on giving her a slightly incredulous look. They were both in their thirties now; didn't she think they were both a little old be playing this game?

Apparently not. She grinned, goading him, he knew. "When did you become such an old man? Do they teach you that at medical school, along with how to stitch people up?"

It was a unsettling, how familiar this routine was after all these years. She was as good as calling him a chicken, in the hopes that he would try to prove her wrong.

It was nice to see her smiling, he decided, but not nice enough to compel him to give in. He was afraid of where this game would take them; he'd already learned more truths about her in the past hour than he'd ever wanted to know. Was he really ready to taint those perfect memories of the childhood Kate with knowledge of the sad, scared woman she had become?

She'd always taken his unimaginative dares as a kid, Jack reminded himself, so maybe he wouldn't have to. He smiled, remembering the night, a few months before he left, when he'd dared her to kiss him. She had, and since it was the first kiss for both of them, it had been clumsy, and awkward, and over too soon, but he still thought of it sometimes, wondering what it would be like to kiss her again now that they'd both had a little more practice. If she didn't have a boyfriend, he might have considered daring her to do it again, for old times sake, but there was a line, and he was determined not to cross it, even in the name of fun. Jack may have hated James, but he just wasn't that kind of guy.

She was waiting for his answer, so, at a loss for what else to do, he agreed. He let her go first, figuring that truth was the safest option. He didn't have anything to hide, and he was too old to be running down the street naked, or jumping off the roof, or any of the other stupid things he'd have to do if he let her choose a dare for him.

She thought for a moment, staring at the carpet, then asked, "When exactly did you move on?"

Jack thought about pretending not to understand the question, but he knew that she knew that he knew what she was talking about. "The truth…" he repeated, knowing that she could never prove he was lying if he didn't answer honestly, but wanting to be honest anyway for some reason. "I'm not sure I ever really did. I've had girlfriends, but I've never been married, never been engaged… I lived with a woman once, for a couple of months, but it didn't work out."

She continued to stare at the carpet as she listened, and Jack couldn't tell what she was thinking. He was afraid he'd overstepped the line with his answer, but then she nodded, murmuring, "Okay. Truth."

This surprised Jack; he was already wracking his brains for something he could dare her to do that wouldn't be too noisy, or public, or embarrassing for both of them. "Did you ever think about writing to me?" he asked, deciding to use the game as an opportunity to get answers to some of his questions, the way she was.

She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "All the time," she said. "In fact, I did, write to you. I just couldn't bring myself to send them. I was still too angry, I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me." She turned back over, meeting his eyes as she added, "But I never threw them away. They're at home, in a box under my bed."

Jack thought about this, wondering if James knew that she still kept the letters she'd written to him twenty years ago under their bed. Somehow he doubted it. He couldn't ask her, though, because it was her turn to ask him a question.

"You said there were other girls, in L.A. Did you love any of them?"

"No. That's why I never married any of them."

He could see another question on the tip of her tongue, and he thought he knew what it was, but she'd already used up her turn, so he asked, "Why aren't you and James married? You've been together a while now, haven't you?"

The last part was cheating a little, but she answered that first anyway. "On and off since high school. He didn't waste much time after you left.

"He's asked me, a few times now, but I keep telling him I'm not ready. He wants to start a family, he has for a while, but I… I guess part of me is still waiting for something better to come along. That doesn't sound too awful, does it?" She looked down at him for confirmation, so he answered, "No, no it doesn't. You deserve better, Kate. Why do you let him hurt you?"

It was his turn, so she had to answer. "I don't know," she said, climbing off the bed to sit beside him on the floor. "I wish I did."

Jack searched her face, but she wasn't being evasive this time. She honestly didn't know, or at least, couldn't explain it, not without delving into the part of her life that neither of them wanted to revisit, so he let it go.

She grinned as she asked him, "If I hadn't been there today, would you have hit him?"

Jack laughed, relieved that she wasn't too freaked out or angry about the run in at the diner. "Probably," he agreed, but when he saw that she wasn't satisfied with this answer, he added, "Okay, yeah."

Her expression softened into a gentle smile, that was sad, but touched. "You shouldn't feel bad, Jack," she said. "God knows he deserves it sometimes."

It wasn't his turn anymore, but Jack couldn't help putting another question to her, the same one that had been plaguing him all day, ever since he learned that she was still here. "Are you happy?"

She shook her head. "No. I haven't been happy for twenty years."

There were tears in her eyes now, so Jack put a gentle hand on her arm, willing her to look at him. When she did, he said, "I really am sorry, you know. I'm sorry for leaving, but more than that, I'm sorry for not coming back."

"I should never have expected you to, Jack." As she looked into his eyes, Jack felt the return of that tension he'd been grappling with ever since she came out of the bathroom wearing only his t-shirt. She must have noticed it too, because she said, "Remember that time you dared me to kiss you? Do you ever think about that?"

"Sometimes," he told her, neglecting to mention that he'd been thinking about it only moments before.

"Have you ever thought about trying it again?"

Jack wanted to say no, but it was his turn to be honest, and he owed her for asking two question before. This would count as her second. "Yeah, Kate, but we can't. Not now."

"Why?" she pressed, looking hurt at what she must have taken as rejection on his part. "Because of James? Do you really think ours is the only bed he's sleeping in at night? He's not even that subtle about it, there's this police officer, down at the local station. Half the town knows about it. Why else do you think I haven't made a complaint against him?"

"I'm sorry about that, Kate," he said. "I really am. But I'm not going to kiss you, not while you're still officially with him, even as a dare. You deserve better than that. After all this time, we both do."


	10. Chapter 10

Happy New Year guys.

Fortunately, I don't have what you would call an active social life, so instead of going out and getting drunk last night, I finished two new chapters for you.

In chapter 11, you'll finally get the confrontation between Jack and Sawyer you've all been waiting for (especially you NYR88!). Although, hopefully, you'll see that even though he's handling it wrongly, Sawyer really does love Kate. That's why it kills him to see her pining over Jack when he's standing right in front of her, ready to make a commitment. And ultimately, that's why he'll have to let her go. Because the story is written from Jack's P.O.V, though, we only get to see the side he sees, which is the rampaging Neanderthal.

Read, review, make whatever comments your hearts desire (so long as they're not mean, which I have to admit, I've been pretty fortunate about). I'm particularly interested to know what you think of my hooks. I try to give the last line(s) of each chapter resonance, so let me know if you think I'm achieving that. Oh, and I've enabled anonymous reviews. Thank you for suggesting that mikachoo. And yes, the police officer is supposed to be Ana.

Chapter 10. Thank You

It was nearly morning by the time they both fell asleep. Jack woke again just before ten, sitting up to find Kate curled on her side in the bed, her hair falling over the bandage on her cheek, breathing deeply. She looked so peaceful, so angelic, that he would have been content to sit beside her, watching her sleep for a while longer, but she had to start work soon, and he still had to take her home to get changed.

So much for not sleeping well in strange beds, he thought, wondering if, by some miracle, his presence made a difference. He liked to think that she felt safe with him, and maybe she did, if she was willing to let her guard down in front of him after everything that had happened to her.

He was just trying to figure out the best way to wake her up without scaring her, when she opened her eyes, looking confused at first, coming face to face with him. But then she smiled, remembering where she was. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, returning her grin.

She sat up, glancing at the clock, her whole demeanour changing from sleepy and relaxed, to wide-awake and on edge, when she saw what time it was. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to retrieve her clothes.

"I only just woke up myself," Jack called out to her, pulling a pair of jeans on over his boxer shorts. "It wasn't my idea to play truth or dare at two o'clock in the morning."

She came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, as he was changing his shirt. "That's because you're an old man. You always were, even when we were kids." Her expression didn't change, but he couldn't help noticing the way her eyes travelled over his biceps, lingering on the muscles in his chest for longer than would normally be considered polite.

She snapped out of it as he pulled a clean shirt over his head, saying bashfully, "I don't have my car."

He smiled to himself, realising that she'd walked halfway across town in the rain to find him, in the middle of the night. If that wasn't a sign that she still trusted him, he didn't know what was. He decided not to make a big deal of it, though, at the risk of embarrassing, or offending her. "That's okay," he told her, tucking his wallet into his back pocket, and picking his keys up off the nightstand. "I'll drive you. If we hurry, we can still make it to the diner on time."

He didn't mention that he wanted to be there in the case of another run in with James, but by the way she nodded, following him silently to the car, he could tell that she knew this, and that she was grateful for his support.

"He won't be there," she said as she buckled herself into the passenger seat. "He works in construction, so he's usually gone when I get up."

She was probably right, but Jack didn't want to take that chance, so he followed her into the house, taking the opportunity to see how she was living now.

Her new place wasn't too different to the one she'd lived in with her mother and Wayne; it was small and cheap, but cleaner, free of the stink of whiskey that had hung in the air even when her father wasn't home.

While she went into the bedroom, Jack waited in the kitchen, studying the handful of photographs Kate had pinned to the fridge with tacky dime store magnets. There was one of her mother, Diane, and a few of her and James with people he figured were friends, but the one that interested him the most was from what must have been their senior prom, almost fifteen years ago now. She was wearing a green dress that brought out the colour in her eyes, her arms around James's neck as he stared into down into them. She wasn't looking at him, though, her gaze fixed on something a little to his left.

Jack couldn't help thinking that it summed up the little he knew about their relationship, or wondering what it would have been like to share that night with her, the way James had. He couldn't even remember the name of the girl he'd taken to his own prom in L.A. He hadn't seen her since high school; they hadn't even been dating.

He was still staring at it when Kate re-entered the kitchen, dressed for work now, and carrying a cardboard box. "I spent months saving for that dress," she said sadly. "I wish you could have seen it." She put the box on the table in front of him. "These are yours, or at least, they should be."

Jack looked at her questioningly, opening the lid at her behest. Inside were the letters she'd written to him, addressed, but never sent. "Thank you, Kate," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. She wasn't lying when she said she hadn't forgotten him; he was pretty sure that there were more here than in the bundle she'd showed him last night.

"You're welcome," she whispered, looking away before they both got too emotional.

Following her lead, he sealed up the box, carrying it out to the car. She was almost half an hour late by then, but she didn't really seem to care.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11. Over

While Kate worked, Jack sat at a booth in the corner of the diner, sifting through the contents of the box.

She'd written to him all the way through high school, unloading her thoughts on him like a kind of diary. She never mentioned Wayne, or the abuse, just like he knew she wouldn't, even if he'd seen her every day; she just talked about what she was doing, movies she'd seen, plans she was making, vowing at the end of each letter to come visit him soon. In hindsight, he knew she wasn't serious, but he couldn't help wondering if she'd written it anyway because it had given her hope, even after he'd stopped writing himself.

Every so often, the grown up Kate would bring him coffee, smiling as she read the words she'd written to him over his shoulder. She didn't comment on them though, letting the letters speak for themselves.

As he read, Jack could see her sitting at the desk in her old childhood room, ignoring Wayne's shouts as she told him about the story competition she'd won, or the new sport she'd taken up, or the horse she'd befriended in the paddock at the end of her street. Some of them, she told him, she'd written from their meeting place by the road, watching the cars go by without him.

She never mentioned any friends, he couldn't help noticing with a pang, not even James. She'd never been Miss Popularity, preferring her own company when she couldn't have his, but it still saddened him to think of her alone through one of the most traumatic periods of her life.

He'd almost reached the bottom of the box, those first tear-stained letters where her handwriting was fervid and loopy, the pen ripping the paper in places where she'd pressed too hard during a fit of emotion, when he heard the door slam, angry footsteps making their way past the counter, towards his booth.

Jack looked up to see James barrelling towards him, his eyes flashing with unadulterated hatred. "Should have known I'd find you here," he said. "Get up." He snatched hold of Jack's collar, pulling him out of the booth.

Bewildered, Jack stood. He didn't have to wonder what this was about for long though, before James added, "You don't get enough pretty nurses at that hospital of yours? You've gotta screw my girlfriend too?"

When Jack opened his mouth to protest, James cut him off, snarling, "You think I don't know whose roof she was shaking up under last night?" He tightened his grip on Jack's shirt, cutting off his air. "How'd you do it? You play the hero, sew her back up, and suddenly she can't keep her hands off you? Or did you just make her some big promise, like you did when we were kids, about how you were going to get her out of here?"

Jack was having trouble breathing now, his body going lax in James's hands. Taking advantage of his weakened state, James pulled him up again, shoving him against the side of the booth. "She was fine before you came riding into town on that big white horse of yours."

"Oh, she was fine, was she?" Jack countered, recovering his composure. "Is that why she needed nine stitches last night?" He pushed the other man off of him, slamming him into one of the tables behind him, his whole body quivering with the urge to pin him there and hit him. More than once, preferably.

The whole diner was watching the now, Kate's face whiter than the letters she'd given him, the letters that were now scattered all over the floor. "What are you doing, James?" she cried, dropping the plate she was holding as she ran over to them. "Nothing happened."

"Oh, nothing happened," James repeated, mimicking her. "After twenty years, you finally get him alone in a room and you just talked? I may not have gone to college like hero here—" He eyed Jack with malice, daring him to throw the first punch "—but even I ain't that stupid."

Before Kate had another chance to tell him that that was exactly what had happened, he added, "I bet you think about him even when you're screwing me. How the hell else did I ever get a look in?"

Jack lost the tenuous grip he had on himself then. He heard Kate screaming for him to stop, felt the crunch of cartilage, but he couldn't seem to rein his fist in. It was only when he saw the blood on James's face that he was able to come to his senses again, letting him fall back onto the table as his hands came up to rub his forehead.

"Didn't think you had it in you," James croaked as he stumbled to his feet, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. "I gotta admit, I'm a little impressed."

Jack ignored him, turning to make sure Kate was okay. She looked shaken, but she didn't hate him, giving him a little nod to let him know that she understood. James had definitely deserved it that time, as good as calling her a whore, when, from what she'd said, he wasn't exactly faithful himself.

She took a deep breath, looking to him for strength, before she stepped forward, wringing her hands nervously. "I may not want to marry you, James," she said, meeting his eyes, "but I've never given you any reason to doubt me. I've never slept around, or kissed another man—" She looked quickly at Jack, apparently grateful that he'd kept her from making this a lie "—Not while we've been together. You can think what you want about last night, but nothing happened. We didn't even sleep in the same bed."

Jack couldn't help noticing the look James gave him, as if to say, "faggot". He tried not to take it personally, knowing that he'd had more respect for Kate than to try something on her when she'd come to him looking the way she did last night. He wasn't an animal. Not like some people.

If she saw it, Kate didn't acknowledge this silent exchange, her voice growing in confidence as she thought, Jack was pretty sure, of all the lying and cheating and abuse her boyfriend had put her through since high school. "If you can't trust me after all these years, then that's it. It's over."


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you all liked it when Jack broke Sawyer's nose. He did deserve it. But, as a few of you pointed out, even though his comments were meant to provoke, there was some truth to them too. That's Sawyer's biggest fear, that he's the consolation prize. I think we'll see that after I Do. Even though he got what he wanted, or at least, what he thought he wanted, it won't be enough, because she doesn't love him. He's going realise that the only reason she would give herself to him like that is because she thinks she can't have Jack. And he's going to force her to admit it, to herself, as well as to him. Then he'll let her go, because he knows Jack can make her happier than he can. (Because he's Wolverine, for those of you who haven't heard my X-Men analogy.)

Enjoy, and please review (what does "Ida" mean, by the way?). This chapter, along with the truth or dare one, is one of my favourites. I love the idea of them regressing back to their childhood together.

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Chapter 12. Me Too

James looked from Kate, to Jack, and back again, apparently unconvinced that the break up wasn't solely about Jack. "Fine, if that's the way you want to play it," he said. "But I swear to God, Katie, you'd better be gone tonight when I get back."

He pushed past Jack, shoving him against the wall with one of his shoulders, but before he left the diner completely, he added, under his breath, "And you, you'd betta get her out of here, before I do something we'll both regret." He didn't bother to specify whether the threat was against Jack or Kate, throwing them both one last angry look before storming out into the car park, and out of Kate's life, Jack hoped, for good.

His parting remark was probably as close as he would ever get to giving them his blessing, Jack noted, but at least he wasn't trying to push the point, walking away with as much dignity as his broken nose would allow.

Kate sank into a chair when he was gone, as Jack bent to gather up the letters. "I can't believe I just did that," she said, the colour beginning to return to her cheeks. "I've wanted to do that for so long, I just never knew how. I couldn't face seeing him every day if I..." Her hand went to her bandage as she trailed off, and Jack knew she was thinking about all the times James had lost his temper with her, and all the times the fear that he would hurt her again had kept her from doing anything about it. He couldn't be sure that James would leave her alone from now on, but this was definitely a step in the right direction.

Up until that point, she had been talking as much to herself as to Jack, but she turned to him then, her voice sincere as she said, "Thanks, Jack."

He dropped the rest of the letters into the box, looking up at her, confused. "For what?"

"For making me realise that I didn't have to put up with that crap." She smiled at him, her whole face lighting up as added, "For making me feel like I really am better than that."

You are, he thought, noticing for the first time how beautiful she was when she smiled like that. Her eyes were still sad; she wasn't free yet, not from the baggage she still carried, but it was a definite improvement on what he'd seen last night. No matter how fleeting her triumph was, Jack couldn't help noticing that, even after twenty years, seeing her look happy made him happy too.

He was saved from having to tell her any of this while he was still figuring out what it meant, when her sweet smile turned into an impish grin. "Think you can stand another night on the floor?"

He laughed, feeling his own face split into a grin as he answered, "For you? Yes."

She left work early that day so that they could pick up her stuff. She didn't have much, just clothes, CDs, books, and a few personal items: childhood mementoes she'd brought with her from her parents' house. The rest was stuff that she and James had bought together. Jack tried to convince her to take some of it with her, but since this was her third time starting over, she told him, she was used to leaving things behind.

The first time was after Wayne died, when she'd moved into a small apartment to escape the memories, once she'd won her emancipation from the state. She'd finished high school, only working enough to cover costs (her parents didn't have a cent to leave her), but her SAT score had suffered, she said, too much for her to bother applying for college. She'd finally moved in with James a few years later, when she realised she wouldn't be getting out of there soon, but she'd never really accepted that that was her life. That was why she hadn't married him, or agreed to get pregnant, no matter times he'd brought up the subject of either.

They dropped her stuff off at the motel, then spent the next hour wandering around town, revisiting their childhood haunts. Jack was amazed at how little everything had changed, everything except Kate, though he was slowly realising that underneath all the damage Wayne had left in his wake, she was still the same girl he'd loved all those years ago. She was still Kate.

This became particularly apparent when, passing the creek where they'd swum as kids, she grabbed his hand, hauling him over to the bank. Before he could say anything, she'd kicked off her shoes, peeling off the jeans she'd changed into after work, and climbing onto a rock in only her underwear and tank top.

"You shouldn't go in there until your face heals," he cautioned her, but she ignored him, jumping into the water, her bandage soaked when she resurfaced a few seconds later.

"Are you coming in, or what?" she asked, laughing as she splashed around in the middle of the creek.

He wondered if she would still think it was so funny when her cheek got infected, but he didn't mention it again, remembering her comments last night, and again this morning. At best, she would only tease him again about being old before his time, and at worst, she would lose her buoyant mood, remembering James, and the way he'd hit her.

When he hesitated, she called out, "Don't be such a chicken, Jack. If I can stand up to James, you can get your feet wet."

He flashed her a self-deprecating smile, humouring her, but his feet remained firmly on dry land. He hadn't been swimming in years, much less in his underwear, in front of a member of the opposite sex. In fact, he was pretty sure the last girl he'd swum with was her, twenty years ago, in this very creek. "If I come in there, I'm going to get a whole lot more than my feet wet."

"So? It's just water." To prove her point she splashed him, laughing merrily as murky creek water spread up the legs of his jeans.

"Okay, okay." To stop them from getting any wetter, he stripped them off, along with his shirt, ignoring the paralysis statistics that as a spinal surgeon, he knew only too well, as he dove into the creek. He didn't have to feel self-conscious for long though, because the water came up to his chest, covering his boxers, and most of her body, so that he didn't have to worry about inadvertently checking her out again like he had last night. Not that she'd seemed to mind ogling him back, last night, or just now, before he entered the water.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she said, swimming up beside him. She turned over onto her back, closing her eyes, and letting herself float.

"It's freezing."

Her eyes snapped open again, twinkling mischievously as she teased him by saying, "I thought I was supposed to be the only girl here."

He mock-glared at her for that, and she splashed him again, ducking under the surface before her could get her back. Everything descended into chaos from there, as they frolicked in the creek like they had when they were kids, shrieking and laughing so loud Jack was pretty sure the whole town could hear them.

He didn't know how long they were in the water, but when they got out again, their hands and feet were shrivelled, their hair thick with mud. He didn't mind though. He'd had more fun with Kate today than he had in years; it had been so long since he'd taken time to enjoy himself like that, especially in such a frivolous, juvenile way.

They didn't bother redressing, sitting on the bank to dry off, watching the sun slip below the horizon in contented silence. Before it disappeared completely, Kate turned to him, her face glowing from the last rays of the day. Or maybe it was just happiness, he mused. "I'm really glad you came back, Jack," she said. "Even if it took you twenty years."

In spite of his earlier doubts, he didn't even have to think about it before replying, "Me too."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13. You Could Come With Me

They showered back at the motel, watching TV as they finished off the left overs from Jack's take out the night before. It amazed him, how comfortable he was around her, just hanging out, after all this time; it was almost like the last twenty years hadn't happened.

Almost.

There was a maudlin side to now her that he was still coming to terms with; they'd be laughing, and suddenly she'd go quiet, staring off into the distance as she retreated into a space they both knew he couldn't follow her to. He couldn't talk to her then; he sat by helplessly, watching as she battled the demons of her past alone, wondering how James had responded to her when she was like this. Had he lost his patience with her? Had he known to be gentle? Or had he been oblivious to the injuries he was adding to?

The first few times Jack noticed this shift in her mood, he reached for her hand to let her know that he was there, that he cared about her, but she pulled it away, shuffling away from him on the bed to let him know that his touch wasn't welcome. He let her initiate contact after that, afraid she would start to tar him with the same brush as men like James and Wayne if he pushed the point.

Fortunately, these moods never lasted long. A few minutes later, she'd be back in the moment with him, teasing him mercilessly to deflect his attention away from her unsettling behaviour. He wanted to call her on it, to force her to talk to him, but their relationship was still too tentative. So instead, he learned to make the most of the moments where she was happy, though in the back of his mind, he vowed to find a way of helping her come to terms with these memories.

He spent the night on the floor again, while she occupied his bed, but she chatted away to him this time, filling him in on the fates of former classmates, making him laugh at things they'd done, things he hadn't thought about in years, like the time they'd freed all the frogs from the high school science lab because she couldn't stand the thought of them being dissected, and above all, reminding him that he hadn't really told her much about his life.

She listened with rapt attention as he talked about L.A., her eyes growing wistful in the dim glow of the streetlight as he described the beaches, his hospital, Berkeley.

"I always wanted to do something important, like you," she told him softly when he'd finished. "Somehow, I don't think serving people coffee is really going to make a difference to humanity."

"It might if you were serving coffee to someone who was trying to cure cancer," he joked, trying to make her smile. "You'd be keeping them awake so that they could work faster, which is kind of like making a difference by proxy, don't you think?"

She humoured him with the watered down version of the smile he was hoping for, and he knew it wasn't good enough. Not for her. Her whole life she'd been made to feel worthless. She wanted to matter, the way he did.

If ever there was a moment to voice his idea, this was it. "I was thinking, Kate," he said, sitting up, hoping she wouldn't consider his invitation too forward. "I'm not going to be able to stay here much longer. My bereavement leave runs out in a couple of days, and then I'm going to have to go back to L.A." Seeing how disappointed she looked, he rushed on. "If you wanted, you could come with me. There's plenty of room at my place – you could stay as long as you needed." Knowing she would be too proud to accept his charity, no matter how tempting the offer, he decided to make it sound like she would be doing him a favour if she came back with him. In a way, she would be. "It's lonely, coming home to an empty house all the time. I could do with the company."

"I'll think about it," she said, looking hesitant at the prospect of leaving the only place she'd ever known, the place where she'd spent the entire thirty two years of her life, but she smiled, her eyes brightening, and Jack was pretty sure he wouldn't be going back to L.A. alone.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14. Waiting

By their third day together, Jack realised he was falling in love with Kate again. Not in the same, blind way he'd loved her as a child, when he was too young to see the flaws in her character, but in a new, frighteningly complex way.

His heart leapt every time she smiled at him, every time their bodies brushed against each other as they walked side by side, and broke each time she let her guard down, allowing him to see how hurt she really was inside. In these moments, he was torn between wanting to take her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot everything but him, and just being her friend, even if that meant keeping his distance for the rest of their lives.

Even though she'd broken up with James, Jack wasn't sure she shared his feelings. She seemed to enjoy his companionship as they walked around town, or just sat in his motel room, talking, or watching TV, but after that first night, she'd never expressed an interest in anything more. He caught her staring at him sometimes, watching him drive, or eat, or laugh, or perform any number of seemingly mundane tasks, but she'd smile warily when he looked at her, changing the subject to something impersonal or unimportant before he had a chance to speak.

As much as he was beginning to want more than the platonic friendship they'd fallen back into, Jack was afraid to do anything to change their relationship, at the risk of losing her trust. From what he'd managed to piece together, he was the first man who'd ever spent time with her without taking anything in return. He didn't want to confirm her fears about him by presenting her with an ulterior motive.

If that meant waiting until she was ready, then he would wait, as long as it took. They'd waited more than half their lives to be together. A few more days, weeks, months, even years, wouldn't hurt.


	15. Chapter 15

Just a short update today, but when I heard Captain Jack Sparrow was going to die, I thought I'd better put something up. I know what the climax is going to be, and how it's going to end, but I'm having trouble building up to that. I don't want to rush it, but at the same time, I don't want the next few chapters to drag. I'm figuring it out though. At the moment, Jack will go to Kate's old house in chapter 16, and chapter 17 will feature the return of James, and the first appearance by Ana. After that, I'm not sure. I don't know if Jack will be ready to carry out his plan for helping her move on yet, or if she'll be able to give him an answer about moving to L.A. (I'm having deja vu – didn't that happen in my last story?) Let me know if there's anything you think I'm missing, anything you want to see, keeping in mind how complicated their relationship is. I'm glad you're all still enjoying it.

Oh, the other reason I didn't update yesterday is that I finally got my Lost figures, and Jack and Charlie's voice chips didn't work. So that was a huge hassle. I had to keep going back to the comic shop to swap them over. They're awesome though.

Anyway, read and please review.

Chapter 15. Co-Dependence

As their relationship deepened, shifting from friendship, to the murky, ill-defined territory of something more ambiguous, Jack found himself slipping back into his old routine of waiting for Kate. It had been a long time since he'd felt compelled to spend every waking moment with another person, but he felt that familiar sense of co-dependence creeping up on him now, waking up early each morning so that he could walk her to work.

Her job placed restrictions on their time together, so sometimes he'd wander around town alone, but he'd always end up back at the diner, helping her bus tables, or deliver orders when it got really busy, or just sitting at the counter, until she finished her shift. Then they'd eat dinner together, at the diner, or the motel, whiling away the rest of the evening in each other's company.

There wasn't much more to do in town than there was when they were growing up, so when they got sick of being cooped up at the motel, if Kate wasn't too tired, they'd go for a walk, like they had that first day. During these walks, they went all over town: to the road, to the creek, down the main street, which housed they tiny two-screen cinema, a few shops, and one or two restaurants, even Christian's house, when Kate said she wanted to see it.

Jack had been too preoccupied to notice the day he arrived, but she pointed out to him then that their tree was gone, the one she'd used to climb in through his window when he was grounded, or it was too late for visitors. If Wayne was really drunk, and she didn't want to go home, or they just didn't want the party to end yet, she'd stay the night, and sneak out again the next morning. Neither of their parents ever knew; Jack's parents didn't care much about what he did so long as he stayed out of trouble, and Kate's parents didn't care so long as she stayed out of their way. In those days, there were each other's family, as well as best friends. Jack didn't know what they were to each other now.

The one place they never went on these walks was Kate's old house. It was on one of the back roads, about a quarter of a mile out of town, where land was cheap, so there was no way to happen upon it by accident. Jack was curious to see it again, how innocuous it looked, but even after fifteen years, he still wasn't sure she was ready, so when she avoided that road, her expression darkening at the intersection, he stayed silent, vowing to go there himself one day, while she was at work.

It might give him some idea as to how to help her move on. She'd moved out because she couldn't stand the memories, but she'd never sold it, letting it stand there for fifteen years like a ghost house, unoccupied, and untended, depreciating in value. As painful as the idea of ever setting foot there again was to her, and Jack could see it in her eyes every time they passed that road, she refused to let go of it, or the past associated with it. That house was central to that part of her life. There had to be a way to use it to set her free from it, to break the ties that bound her to this town, so that she could finally come with him to L.A.


	16. Chapter 16

I felt bad about such a pitiful update, so I've finished chapter 16, and I'm adding it too. I'm not sure how long it will be before you find out about Jack's idea, but it should be worth the wait, hopefully. I've started writing Sawyer's next appearance, so that should be next chapter. I wasn't going to bring him back, but everyone kept mentioning it, so I thought I should show you guys how he's handling the break up. Plus, it's a small town. They're guaranteed to run into him again eventually.

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Chapter 16. Closure 

True to his word, Jack went to the house the next morning, after he dropped Kate off at work. She looked confused, disappointed even, he thought, when he didn't follow her into the diner as usual, so he told her he had some business to finish up with his father, and this seemed to allay her curiosity. He felt bad for lying to her, especially now that she was starting to open up with him, but he told himself it was the best. He had to get to that house, and he was certain that if she knew what he was up to, she'd try to stop him. She'd tell him that it was in the past, that it didn't matter anymore, but it did, because she wouldn't sell it, because she insisted on prolonging her pain by holding onto something that wasn't worth holding onto.

Once she'd accepted his excuse, and they'd parted ways, Jack walked back across town, heading down that road for the first time in twenty years. A few more houses had sprung up over time, but all in all, the neighbourhood was pretty much the same: dirty, cheap, a provincial slum. The kind of place where people's sense of self-worth was even lower than the property values, adding to the violence that small town life seemed to breed.

Kate's house was at the end of a dirt road, a few hundred yards from the nearest neighbour. It was no wonder, Jack realised, that no one had ever known what went on behind its doors. It hadn't seemed that far away from everything when they were kids.

The yard was overgrown, liked he'd imagined, tree roots splitting open the pipes, which were already rusted from decades of neglect. One of the windows was smashed, so Jack cleared away the glass, climbing through into the master bedroom.

He felt a shudder of revulsion go through him as he looked around at the cheap blinds, the rumpled sheets, the pile of empty bottles by the bed, wondering if this was where it had happened, or across the hall in her own room. He remembered when they were eleven, how he'd helped her put a dead bolt on her door; it hadn't saved her, hadn't kept him away, though at the time, he'd been too young to fully understand her fears.

If he had, would it have made a difference? he wondered. But he knew deep down that it wouldn't. He was just a kid. He couldn't have stood up to Wayne. She was braver than him, and she'd failed.

It made him angry, standing there in the room where Wayne had slept off his drunken stupors, free from the nightmares Jack knew she still suffered, so he went across the hall to her room, surprised to see how little she'd taken with her when she left. The room was pretty much as it was the last time he'd been here: small and Spartan, with no posters on the wall, or pictures of family and friends. The only decorations she'd ever put up were postcards and travel brochures she'd collected, tacking them to the plaster above her bed to remind herself that there was a world outside this town, she just had to wait a little longer to see it. She was supposed to leave when she was eighteen, but this place had broken her long before that.

They were gone now, though Jack could still see the marks on the wall, along with the one left by the map she'd hung above her desk, where she'd circle places she wanted to go. He wondered if Wayne had destroyed them, along with that dream, or if she still had them somewhere, boxed up like the letters they'd written each other. He didn't think she would have thrown them away; they were her lifeline once, her hope. Even if she'd never visited any of the places she'd dreamed of, she hadn't given up that up. He could see it in her eyes when he talked to her about L.A. She still wanted to leave, she just didn't know how to break free of the hold this place still had on her.

Wandering through the rest of the house, seeing the pile of old magazines still on the table, the dishes no one had ever bothered to put away, the faded pictures on the fridge, Wayne's boots by the door, Jack finally found the answer he was searching for. He wasn't sure it would work, but it was worth a try. Like his father, her parents had died before she had the chance to confront them, to get the answers she needed, but maybe, just maybe, he could still give her the closure she craved, the closure to move on, and finally start her new life.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks for the reviews. All I'm going to say is that either I'm a better writer than I thought, or you guys are freakily intuitive. Or both.

Since there wasn't a lot of Jate interaction in the last few chapters, I've given you plenty of it here, although I'm pretty sure you'll be disappointed with the ending. (A little hint: Kate was too.) I will pay that off later though. The last two chapters may have been a little slow, but they were important, building up to the climax, where Jack will help Kate, and himself. He needs the closure just as much as she does, in order to forgive himself for not being able to save her before. I know I promised Sawyer, but I've bumped that back to chapter 18.

Read and please review. I'm hoping to beat the 61 reviews I got on my last fic. If you're feeling lazy, and can't be bothered reviewing after each chapter, please, please, please, drop me a line at the end, and tell me what you thought of the fic as a whole. I might even write another one then, although I really need to get back to my original stuff. I'm writing a superhero novel, which sounds odd, but if you've seen Heroes, I imagine it's like that. (I started it in 2003 though, and I haven't seen Heroes yet. We don't get it here until February. A friend of mine gave me a downloaded copy of the first eleven episodes, but I can't get it work on my computer.)

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Chapter 17. We Should Do Something

Jack was feeling pretty pleased with himself when he walked into the diner an hour later. Kate was wiping over the counter, but she noticed his smile right away as he climbed onto a stool in front of her.

"What are you looking so smug about?" she asked, returning his grin, though she had no idea what had caused it.

Jack was pretty sure that if she did, her happiness would falter, threatening to turn into one of her black moods, so he kept his answer vague, telling her that it was a surprise.

She didn't say anything more, but her smile grew a little wider as she contemplated this. Putting down her cloth, she poured him a cup of coffee like she always did on his arrival, resuming her cleaning with a thoughtful expression.

A companionable silence fell over them as Jack watched her, sipping his drink, until she stopped again, looked up at him, and said, "I was thinking – maybe we could do something tonight." She must have realised how vague this sounded, because she added quickly, "Something different."

Her voice was so casual, and they'd spent so much time together lately that Jack didn't think anything of it as he suggested, "Like go to a movie?"

"Yeah." She grinned at the counter top as she wiped away a spot of ketchup, and Jack wondered if there was something he was missing here. It wasn't like they hadn't been to the movies together before.

"Sure. Why not?" he agreed.

She looked up at him again as she added, "I get off at seven, so maybe some time after that?"

Again, Jack agreed, not really giving her invitation much thought until she went into the kitchen to get the salt, and a disconcerting thought hit him.

"Wait," he said as she began to fill the saltshakers, looking pretty smug herself now. It was probably ridiculous, just him reading too much into things, but he couldn't help asking, "When you said you wanted to do something, did you mean like a date?"

Her smile vanished as she met his eyes again, confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. "Why? Is that a bad thing?"

Jack couldn't help noticing that her tone was a little defensive. After all, she'd just put herself out there. She probably didn't like the implication that he was shooting her down.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

"No," he said, a slow smile spreading over his face, though he was suddenly nervous around her for the first time in days.

It really wasn't.

Jack left the diner at six, so that he could shower and change his clothes, and still be back in time to pick Kate up at seven. Of course, then they had to return to the motel again so that she could wash the smell of coffee and burger grease off of her, but he didn't mind, especially since he still wasn't too fond of the idea of her walking home alone while James was still roaming the streets.

It had been a few days since he'd shaved, being on leave, but he did that now as an afterthought, while he waited for Kate to finish up in the bathroom. She came out as he was stowing the electric razor back in his luggage, still wearing jeans and a tank top as usual, but her hair was loose, her damp curls falling past her shoulders, and he could see the faintest trace of make up highlighting her already, in his opinion, gorgeous features. She smelled different too; he wasn't sure if was perfume, or just the shampoo she'd used, but whatever, it was, it was amazing, sending his heart racing.

"You look nice," he said, downplaying his reaction, but she seemed to get the message, because she smiled happily as she returned the compliment. "So do you."

She sized him up, looking impressed as she added, "You shaved."

Jack's heart sped up a little faster as she took a step towards him, reaching up to her run her fingers over his smooth jaw, her touch sending a thrill of electricity through him.

She must have felt it too, because her eyes locked on his, her face turned up, mouth only inches away, like she was waiting for him to kiss her. He could have moved in, but he wasn't sure enough that that was what she wanted, so he waited for her to move first.

When nothing happened, she turned away from him, saying, "We should go."

Confused and disappointed, Jack followed her out of the room, locking the door behind them. Even though the signs were there, he was still afraid to touch her, in case it ruined everything he'd worked so hard to build. She'd asked him out, it was true, but until he was sure what that invitation covered, he would have to keep waiting, unless she acted first.


	18. Chapter 18

Yay, 61 reviews! I'm glad you guys liked the almost kiss. I thought it was time to move their relationship forward, but not too far. (I promise that when they finally kiss, it'll be pretty spectacular, if I keep with the plan I've got in my head.) I know Jack's being frustrating, but I think I explain what his biggest concern is in this chapter. Why he's wary of her encouragement. Since we don't get to hear her thoughts, here, I'll just say that she doesn't understand what his problem is. She knows he still loves her, and that he's attracted to her, so really, she's hurt by the implication that he sees her as damaged goods.

We get to see Sawyer in this chapter, along with some Sana interaction, which I thought would be fun (and a nod to Jack and Ana's friendship). One of my favourite things about their relationship is that Ana doesn't take his crap the way Kate does, so I've tried to capture that here. He's such a petulant child sometimes, I think he needs someone who'll tell him he's being ridiculous, not mother him.

I hope you like the chapter. I hadn't planned on putting it in until you guys kept mentioning Sawyer, but I enjoyed writing it. As always, let me know what you think.

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Chapter 18. Not Really A Bad Guy 

Though he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he should have kissed Kate at the motel, Jack was determined to put the incident behind them, and enjoy the rest of their evening together. He wouldn't be in town much longer; even if he took the sick days he never seemed to use, it still added up to the same thing: they had another week, at most, unless she came with him to L.A. While there was still a chance that that might not happen, he wanted to make the most of whatever time they had left.

Kate was quiet as they walked to the centre of town, and Jack couldn't help thinking that he'd upset her somehow, though whether it was by almost kissing her, or hesitating, he wasn't sure. She was sending him mixed signals: one day she'd practically be begging him to kiss her, the next, she wouldn't let him touch her, even as a friend. It was confusing, to say the least. His biggest fear was that she was only acting in the way she thought he expected, after Wayne and James; that if he allowed himself to get caught up, he'd find out later that she was only giving him what she thought he wanted in exchange for helping her. And that was something he knew neither of the wanted. He couldn't live with himself if he took advantage of her baggage like that.

She cheered up after a few moments, seeming to come to the same conclusion he had, and would have been fine, if they hadn't run into James on Main Street. He was coming out of one of the restaurants, talking and laughing with a pretty Latino woman Jack assumed was the police officer, his arm around her waist, looking pretty cosy for a couple who'd supposedly only just started dating.

Jack felt Kate tense again beside him, at the sight of James, or his new girlfriend, he wasn't sure. He would have been content to let them go by without another confrontation, but James stopped when he saw them, the spiteful grin Jack had seen at the diner, before both of their previous encounters, lighting up his face. Jack had broken James's nose, and to his primitive mind, stolen his girlfriend, humiliating him in front of a diner full of people. It was giving the other man too much credit to think that he could walk away without incident.

"Well, well, well," James said, sidling up to them, a flesh-coloured bandage on the bridge of his nose serving as a reminder to both of the last time they'd met. "If it ain't Dr. Love. Still following her around like a damn puppy dog?"

Jack held his gaze, putting a hand on the small of Kate's back, intending to usher her away before things got ugly, but he froze when James added, "She put out for you yet? Or are you that much of a woman that you still haven't tried anything?"

All thoughts of walking away faded from Jack's mind as he took a step towards James, struggling with the urge to hit him again. His nose was still broken, but there were plenty of other bones in his face, as well as two rows of teeth, which glowed in the dusk as he grinned at Jack.

Jack felt Kate's hand on his arm, holding him back this time, her eyes signalling a silent warning. He let go of the fist he hadn't realised he'd made, preparing to back down, until James spoke again, picking up on the tension between them. "Don't worry, doc, you ain't missing much. Why do you think I started getting it elsewhere?"

Kate's hand slid from Jack's arm, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief, and he seized the opportunity to take a swing at James. He missed this time, James returning the favour, until his girlfriend caught his arm.

"Cut the crap, James," she said, "or you'll be going home alone tonight."

"What are you taking his side for?" James muttered, but when she released his arm, he dropped it obediently, glaring at Jack.

"Thanks," Jack said, stifling a grin as he tried to imagine what James's new girlfriend would do if he pulled the same crap on her that he did on Kate. Hit him right back, he decided.

Grabbing hold of the back of James's shirt to restrain him, she held out her free hand to Jack. "I'm Ana Lucia, by the way."

"Jack." He shook it warmly, feeling like a traitor, but he couldn't seem to help admiring her, even if she'd betrayed Kate. In some strange way, she seemed to be exactly what James needed. As hurt as she was about the affair, he hoped that Kate could see it too.

Ana Lucia was obviously ashamed of what she'd done, because she gave Kate a small smile, looking wary. She didn't seem like the type to apologise, but she clearly wasn't comfortable around her either, bidding them both a hasty goodnight, and taking hold of James again, shoving him in the opposite direction to the one Jack and Kate were headed in. As they moved away, Jack could hear her berating him; he found it hard to contain his laughter at the sight of James being manhandled by a woman who was arguably smaller than Kate. She definitely had him whipped; as much as he'd loved Kate, Jack couldn't imagine her silencing him with a simple threat.

When they were gone, he turned to Kate again, studying her expression to see how she was handling all of this. They hadn't talked about the break up since the day it happened; he hadn't seen her cry, or express anything other than relief, but at the same time, he didn't know if this was because she was really okay with it, or if she was just putting on a brave face. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." She smiled to reassure him, but he mustn't have looked convinced, because a moment later she added, "I mean, it's weird, seeing him with someone else, especially her. But I'm happy for him. He deserves to be with someone who can give him the life that he wants."

Jack tried not to look incredulous, but Kate picked up on his scepticism, saying, "He can be a bastard at times, but underneath it all, he's not really a bad guy. He never gave up on me, even when I pushed him away. He deserves to be with someone who'll love him the way I should have, the way he wanted me to. And she seems to, so I really am happy for him."


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for the reviews. I know Kate's pretty hard on herself, but she's got major issues, which I will address next chapter. And thanks for complimenting my Sawyer, ms metaphor -- I've been trying really hard to get his voice right, but I worry it's a little over the top sometimes. Even if he can be. And I try not to be too derivative of his dialogue on the show...

I was just going to post this chapter, but I couldn't leave it like that (although I love that it's so much like the caves argument in season 1), so I'm adding the next one as well. I think you'll like it – Jack stops being so passive. As soon as I finished it, I knew it was nearly the end, so I'll just warn you now, there'll only be a few more chapters after this, including the one about Jack's plan. (By the way, I couldn't resist sneaking in that little Red Sox reference…)

Please read and review. I'm looking forward to hearing your comments, particularly about chapter 20, which I'm pretty fond of. Does everyone else's hit count go down as they go along, or is it just mine? Cause I'm starting to get worried...

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Chapter 19. Like The Red Sox 

They didn't make it to the movies after that. Even though Kate recovered well from the shock of seeing James with his new girlfriend, the mood wasn't what either of them had hoped for after that. Jack wondered if they really were just two ships passing in the night, destined to keep missing each other, for the rest of their lives. It seemed like whenever one of them was ready to start a relationship, the other one wasn't. Maybe, like the Red Sox, they were never meant to win.

It was probably for the best, Jack decided. His confidence that she would come with him to L.A. was beginning to wane. She hadn't mentioned it again since she'd told him she'd think about it, and that was a few days ago now. He had to go back soon; she was running out of time to make a decision, especially if she wanted to give the diner reasonable notice.

There was nothing to eat at the motel, so they went back to the diner, making awkward small talk as they picked at their food. Jack wanted to clear the air between them, by asking her about the kiss, or near kiss, but he was afraid that if he reminded her of it, it would only make things worse.

She caught his eye a few times, like she wanted to say something, but when she realised that she had his attention, she baulked, staring moodily back down at her plate.

Realising that the timing was wrong, but knowing that he couldn't make things any worse by bringing in up again, Jack resolved to ask her about L.A. If she wasn't coming, he could at least justify in a way she'd understand, why he was keeping her at arm's length.

She brushed the question off again, telling him she didn't know. "We're short staffed here," she explained, though Jack knew there was more to the story than work. "If I leave, there won't be anyone to cover my shifts." His doubt must have showed on his face, because she grew defensive of her answer, adding, "I can't just go changing my whole life on a whim. I may not be a doctor like you, Jack, but I have responsibilities too."

It sounded so unlike the Kate he knew, so against her natural inclination, that Jack couldn't help but feel like she was punishing him for something. For rejecting her, maybe, though that wasn't what had happened, no matter how she chose to read it. As illogical as it sounded, and as hard as he knew it would be for her to believe, he hadn't kissed her because of his feelings for her, because he wanted to make sure that they were both in this for the right reasons before it ruined the relationship they already had.

Pushing his plate away, and taking a deep breath, Jack decided it was time to set the record straight. He wanted to be open with her, even if that meant hurting her a little to do so. "I'm sorry about what happened at the motel, Kate," he began, still not entirely sure which path his apology was going to take. "Or what almost happened—"

He didn't get the chance to finish, because she cut him off, her voice firm, a little cold, even, as she looked up at him with that closed off expression he'd become all too familiar with in the past few days. "It's okay, Jack. Don't worry about it. We got caught up in the moment. It happens." She pushed her own plate away, standing up. "I'm really tired, and I've got to open tomorrow, so we should probably just go home."

She didn't say another word as she paid the bill herself, affectively ending the date, and the argument. Then she picked up her jacket, and headed for the door, without even waiting to see if he was coming. Too stunned to say anything, Jack followed her out of the diner, wondering if they'd just broken up before they'd even started dating.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20. Bad Things Happen

She was gone the next morning when Jack woke up, the sheets tossed back haphazardly like she hadn't wanted to risk waking him by making the bed. If she was trying not to disturb him, she was probably still mad at him then, he concluded, wondering if he should bother going to the diner to see her, or just wait until she came back. If she did.

Her stuff, he noticed with relief, was still there, the clothes she'd slept in last night piled in a heap at the foot of the bed. Even if she planned on leaving now that things were so tense between them, she'd have to come back for it eventually.

It was only just after eight, and for the first time since he'd gone on leave, Jack didn't have anywhere to be, so he decided to wallow for a while, crawling into the bed she'd vacated recently enough to leave it still warm. The sheets still smelled like her, so, since this was probably as close to her as he was ever going to get again, he decided to make the most of it, burying his face in the pillow and going back to sleep.

He woke up again at eleven, decided he'd slept in long enough, and got up in search of food. Normally he'd go to the diner for breakfast, but since he didn't think Kate would appreciate him confronting her at work, he wandered down Main Street until he found a gas station that also served fast food. Ordering a fairly disgusting looking burger, he sat at one of the outdoor tables, reading the newspaper, and poking his food pensively, until he was tired of hearing about community theatre groups, and exceptional animals, and all of the other pointless news items small town reporters seemed to dredge up.

Kate had made this place bearable, he realised, when they were kids, and over the past few days. He lacked her spirit, her imagination; without her, it was just another small town.

But it wasn't just this place that had no meaning without her. For the past twenty years, he'd just existed, waiting for a day that never came. He'd built his career, but that was all; he'd never married, never had children, never dated a woman for more than six months. Kate may have been the one who'd stayed in the same place, but she wasn't the only one standing still.

He couldn't just sit here waiting for the ball to drop, for her to walk out of his life again because he was afraid of what would happen if he let himself love her. If there was a chance that this was it, that she really was what he'd been waiting for his whole life, then he owed it to both of them to find out.

Jack tossed the newspaper in the bin, along with the rest of his burger, heading towards the diner. He didn't care if she was at work; he couldn't wait another six hours to see her, to tell her that he should have kissed her when he had the chance, because it was all he'd been able to think about since the night she came to his motel.

She was in the kitchen, talking to the cook; he didn't wait for her to finish, excusing them, and taking her hand gently but firmly as he dragged her towards the freezer.

"What are you doing, Jack? It's freezing in here," she protested as he shut the door behind them to give them some privacy.

"I wanted to talk to you. Alone," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest as he blocked her escape.

She looked at her watch impatiently, as if to remind him that she was still on the clock. "Can't this wait until tonight?"

"No, Kate, it can't," he said, holding strong, despite the fact that he was shivering, and his teeth were beginning to chatter. "I tried to do this last night, at dinner, but you wouldn't let me finish."

She sighed, crossing her own arms, half to show him that she wasn't impressed, and half to keep warm. "This isn't funny, Jack. I have to get back to work. You can't hold me hostage in a freezer all day."

"Yes, I can." Jack leaned back against the door to show her that he wasn't going anywhere. If he could just make it through the next few moments without passing out, then maybe he'd be able to get her to stop being so evasive.

"You'll make us both sick."

"Good," he said realising how immature he sounded, though she was the one acting like a petulant child, despite being locked in a freezer. "If we're both bedridden, then you'll have to listen to me."

"Fine," she said, her expression haughty, when she realised that she was arguing in vain. "I'm listening. What do you want, Jack? Keeping in mind that we're risking hypothermia here."

Jack softened his tone now that he had her attention. "I just want you to tell me what happened last night. Why did you storm out of here like that?"

Her expression tightened, her eyes avoiding his, and Jack could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was thinking about lying, she just had to find something plausible to blame her behaviour on.

Something like James, he thought bitterly, waiting for her to try to take the focus off the real issue here.

She didn't, surprising him as she turned back to him, asking, "Why didn't you kiss me?" her eyes pained. "I was right there in front of you, practically throwing myself at you, and you pulled back."

Jack sighed, realising that he'd hit the nail on the head last night. She wasn't upset with him because they'd almost kissed. She was upset because they didn't. "I know, Kate, and I'm sorry," he said, wishing he could go back and do things differently. He'd been trying so hard not to ruin things, that he had anyway, by making her feel unwanted. "But it's complicated," he tried to explain, feebly. "You only just broke up with James—"

"So?" she spat, more offended than hurt now. "It didn't take him long to move on."

Jack forgot his guilt for a moment, as a sickening thought occurred to him. "Is that what this is, Kate? A revenge thing?" He wasn't sure he really to know the answer. "He cheated on you, so you're using me to get him back?"

"No." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. In fact, Jack thought she even sounded a little horrified by the idea.

"Then why are you trying to rush things?" he couldn't help asking, desperate to know why this was so important to her. He'd been in town less than a week. Why did he have to kiss her to prove that he had feelings for her, when he'd already asked her to move to L.A.?

She turned away from him, and Jack could see the guards going up, as she tried to avoid saying whatever it was she really wanted to say. "I just don't understand you, that's all," she answered lamely, though her voice grew in anger as she added, "One minute you're looking at me like you can't wait to see me naked, the next, you're acting like I'm diseased or something."

They'd gotten to the real issue here; Jack could see it in her eyes as she choked out, "Is that it? Is it because of what I told you about… about…?"

She broke down, sobbing so hard that she barely seemed to notice when he took her into his arms, stroking her hair gently as he said, "No. God no." He felt a pang of remorse, denying this when he knew that it was at least a factor, but he didn't think she could handle hearing that right now. What she was saying wasn't true anyway. It wasn't that he was afraid that there was something wrong with her; it was that he was afraid that there was something wrong with him.

"That wasn't your fault," he said, his heart breaking for her for thinking that he would ever believe otherwise. "I would never punish you for that, so don't even think about it, okay? It's just… complicated. I don't want to hurt you."

She pulled away from where her face was buried in his chest, lifting her chin so that she could meet his eyes with her own teary ones. "But you did."

She didn't have to say anymore, because he understood then. By pushing her away, he'd reopened the wounds that she'd been trying to heal for the past sixteen years. He'd made her feel like she didn't deserve him, when he knew she probably deserved a whole lot better.

"I'm so sorry, Kate," he said, feeling his own eyes tear up. "I never meant to make you feel like I didn't want you. I was just trying to protect you."

"Well, I don't need protecting, okay?" she said, settling herself against him again, her head resting on his shoulder. "If I get hurt, I get hurt. We both do." Her warm breath tickled his neck as she went on. "Bad things happen, but you can't let them keep you from living your life."

Jack looked down at her, surprised. "That's a good advice," he said.

She grinned up at him, the tears already drying on her cheeks as she said, "I'm glad you think so, because I got it from you."

Jack smiled back at her, pushing a stray curl from her temple, and leaning down to kiss it gently, but before he could work his way up to anything more passionate, she squirmed in his grasp, adding, "Now, can you please let me out of here, before we both freeze to death?"

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I know -- I'm evil. But when we finally get to the kiss, you'll see why I saved it... 


	21. Chapter 21

Where did everyone go? I'm starting to wonder in anyone is still actually reading this... I thought you all said you liked the tone / slow build? Just a warning, so you won't be disappointed again: there won't be a kiss in this chapter, because I'm saving that for chapter 22 (I hope!), when Jack unveils his plan. He does reminisce about meeting Kate, though. I thought I'd do a little homage to the pilot…

About James: I may not have succeeded in getting it across, but he does love Kate. He only says those things because he hates Jack, and it's the quickest way to get a rise out of him. But at the same time, I like to think that Jack is the only guy he would ever give way for, because he knows that Jack can make Kate happier than he ever could. Kate understands this, that's why she said he wasn't really a bad guy. But you're right, that's still no excuse for letting him hit her…

Please read and review, and I will get chapter 22 up as soon as I can.

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Chapter 21. We Wasted So Much Time 

Jack didn't try to kiss Kate right away after that, but it was a relief to know that he could, that she wouldn't see it as a violation, of her, or her trust. That she wanted it as much as he did. She didn't push him again either, though, letting their relationship progress naturally, with one exception.

They'd gone to the elementary school after dinner, where they'd met on the playground almost twenty-seven years before. Sitting beside Kate on the swing set, trailing his feet in the dirt as they watched the moon rise, Jack could remember that day with surprising clarity.

It was lunchtime, the first day of kindergarten. He was playing on the fort, when one of the other boys in their class pushed him off. He'd only fallen three feet to the ground, but there must have been something sharp buried in the sand, because he'd gashed his back open, ripping his shirt, his hand coming away bloody when he touched it to the wound.

He hadn't known what to do, so he sat there in the middle of the playground crying, until Kate came over, her look of compassion drying his tears. She'd stayed with him until a teacher came to take him to the nurse's office, admiring his stiches the next day when he returned to school. She'd even offered to beat up the kid who pushed him that day at playtime, but he'd politely declined, inviting her to play with him instead. They'd become fast friends after that, never leaving each other's sides for more than a few hours, until the day, eight years later, when Jack's mother loaded him into her Mercedes and drove him to L.A.

He was still thinking about that day, and their failed meeting, when she turned to him out of the blue and said, "I'm coming with you."

"What?" Jack snapped out of his reverie, surprised to find the adult Kate speaking these words, the same ones she'd used twenty years ago, when he'd told her that he was leaving. There was no bravado in her voice this time, though; she was serious. "Do you mean…?" The breath caught in his throat as he returned his attention to her, hardly daring to hope as he anticipated her answer.

"Yes," she said, quieter, less sure of herself now. "To L.A."

Jack could tell that she was scared, and he knew he should say something to reassure her, but he broke into a grin, unable to keep the joy from registering on his face. She'd had him on tenterhooks all week, but now… it was finally happening. She was coming home with him, to L.A., like she should have all those years ago. "When did you decide this?" he couldn't help asking, remembering the scene at the diner last night. She'd seemed so opposed to the idea then. Had their conversation in the freezer convinced her to change her mind? Or had she known then, withholding her answer to punish him like he thought?

She gave him a wry smile, saying, "Yesterday. Or at least, I handed in my notice yesterday." Pausing for a moment, she sighed, adding, "I've wanted to go back with you since before I even knew it was a possibility. That's why I came to the funeral. I guess a part of me was still hoping you hadn't forgotten." She stared at the down at the ground, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet to set her swing in motion, too embarrassed to look at him, it seemed.

Jack let go of his own chain, snatching hold of hers to steady her, so that she met his eyes questioningly. "I didn't forget, Kate," he said, once he had her full attention. "I hope you know that by now. I always meant to come back for you. If you'd given me any sign that that was what you still wanted, I would have."

"I know. And I'm sorry, sorrier than you'll ever know," she said softly. "If I could go back in time, I would have sent you those letters. I wouldn't have shut you out of my life like that."

In the moonlight, Jack could see that there were tears glistening on her cheeks now. Leaning over, he brushed them away with his fingertips, returning her sad smile as she placed her hand over his own, holding it there, against her the side of her face.

"We wasted so much time," she whispered.

Jack felt a lump rise in his own throat at these words, but he swallowed it, determined not to let past misunderstandings mar their future together. "And we won't ever get it back," he agreed, "but you're giving us a chance to make up for it."

She laughed through her tears, kissing his fingers, before letting their intertwined hands drop back down into the space between them. "You're amazing, you know that?" she said, and his heart did a little somersault in his chest. It was too soon to say, "I love you", but this was close enough.

They sat in contented silence for a while, clinging to each other's hands, neither needing any more assurance of the other's affection for now, until Jack turned to her again, asking, "When exactly did you quit? You said it was yesterday, but when?" He'd been with her for most of the day.

She let go of his hand, looking away bashfully. "Yesterday morning, when you were off sorting out that business with your father," she said, making him cringe inwardly at his lie. He'd come clean before they left; he had to. "That's why I asked you out, because I knew I was coming, so I knew it was okay to start something. I was going to tell you at dinner, but…"

Jack nodded, realising that he'd been right all along. She had been trying to punish him when she said she didn't know. She'd made a life-altering decision based on something he'd said, something he'd promised, and he'd rejected her again, to her mind at least.

"Promise me you'll just tell me when you're mad at me in future?" he asked, holding out his pinkie to her like he had when they were kids. "The last time you tried to get back at me like that, we missed out on twenty years of each other's lives. I don't want that to happen again."

She smiled, joining her pinkie with his and shaking it. "I promise."


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you're still reading, and that you liked Jack and Kate's meeting (I couldn't resist giving it the same essence as the one in the pilot, which I'm hoping to pay off later), the pinkie promise, and that fact that she's going to L.A. I agree, mcanj25, swing sets are romantic, especially at night. And no, yellosh, I didn't meant that line as a reference to the pilot, but it might have subconsciously influenced me. I've only seen that episode fifty thousand times. My sister and I watch them on a loop.

I'm still working on Jack's plan (and the infamous kiss!), so here's a short chapter to tide you all over. Please read and review, and if you get time, let me know what you thought of the freezer scene. I was really proud of the balance of humor and emotion there, so I'd love to hear your comments. I thought the alerts were back on, by the way. My inbox is flooded with a backlog of reviews...

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Chapter 22. Don't Wait Too Long

Jack's leave ran out the following day, but in lieu of Kate's announcement, he decided to stick around, taking some of his sick days so that she could finish out the week as promised.

She'd been at the diner for sixteen years, helping her mother out there before that, so on her last day, Margaret organised a little staff party. She'd been like a second mother to her, Kate explained, arriving in her life after Jack left, a year or so after her own mother followed. She'd been protective and sweet, giving Kate advice, nursing her through illnesses, fussing over her on her birthday, and at Christmas; she'd never liked James, but she liked him, Kate told Jack with an amused grin, ever since that first day at the diner, when he'd insisted she pour him another coffee if it meant she had to keep talking to him. That was why she'd left her at his mercy, because she'd finally found a guy she thought was worthy of Kate.

Given this insight into their relationship, Jack wasn't surprised when Margaret invited him to the party, pulling him aside while Kate was busy talking to one of the other waitresses.

"That girl's been through a lot," she said, leading him into the kitchen, peeking back into the diner to make sure Kate was well and truly out of earshot. "Probably more than she's willing to admit to." Jack nodded, knowing this was true, though he wasn't sure how much Kate had told her. "I'd hate to have to add you to that list."

He wasn't sure if he should take this as a threat – she was a pretty tough looking woman; she could probably give him a run for his money – but he knew this wasn't something he had to worry about. They were on the same side, Kate's side. He was still, technically, her best friend after all. "I know," he said, "but you won't have to. We're taking things slowly for now."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," she agreed, throwing him off guard. He'd been preparing for the whole "be-careful-with-her" speech parents usually gave. But Margaret wasn't her mother. "She told me about that kiss, or almost kiss, the morning after it happened. She was pretty pissed off."

Jack looked away, embarrassed. While he was grateful that Margaret was such a good friend to Kate, he wished women wouldn't always feel compelled to dissect men's behaviour together. It was a double standard: men shouldn't kiss and tell, but women could tell their friends every intimate, and in his case, humiliating detail of a romantic encounter.

Margaret put a hand on his arm, and he looked back at her. "What goes on between the two of you is none of my business," she said, her voice softening to the same maternal tone he was pretty sure she used when counselling Kate. "All I'm saying is that she really likes you. If you asked me to hedge my bets, I'd probably say that this is the real thing, the way you two look at each other."

She grinned, as she added, "Just don't wait too long, okay? She deserves to be swept off her feet after everything that happened with James."


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks for the reviews. I'm making you suffer, I know. And I'll apologise again, but unfortunately, I come from the Jane Austen school of writing romance, which is all about anticipation. (And no kissing! Just keep in mind that Pride and Prejudice is widely considered to be the most romantic book ever written, and they never even get to first base!) It's amazing that in her books, little things like the touch of a hand, or the tone of someone's voice, can count for more than sex in another story. I'm not going to go that far, but there's a purity to that that you've got to admire, especially considering how overexposed we are nowadays. I think that's one of the things that attracted me to these characters in the first place, that perfect platonic love that allows them to just sit there without talking and completely understand each other. Not that I'm saying that I don't want them together, because God knows I do (I got just as excited as everyone else when they kissed), but so long as Kate's not with Sawyer, I'm content with that for now.

That said, I can absolutely positively one hundred per cent promise that the kiss will happen in chapter 24, at Kate's old house. I'm still working on that now, but I have written that part, so I know it will definitely be there. And given the symbolism, I'm pretty sure it will be worth the wait. If not, you can all send me angry reviews, which you'll probably do anyway after another kiss-less chapter… ;-)

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Chapter 23. B.F.F

They were leaving for L.A. early the next morning, so that night was Jack's last chance to carry out his plan for Kate. He still wasn't sure she was ready to go back to the house, but that only made the trip all the more necessary. Sooner or later she would have to let go of it, and the memories associated with it, and Jack wanted to be there to support her when she did. If James had been able to read her well enough to know that that was what she needed, she might have married him when he asked, instead of pushing him away. Jack didn't want to make the same mistake in his relationship with her; he wanted her in the present with him, except when they decided to revisit the past together. They'd been apart for so long; he didn't want to feel distanced from her anymore.

Kate was working until closing that night, so Jack asked her to meet him by the road when she finished, the same road where they were supposed to meet to say their goodbyes all those years ago. He wanted to show her that he wouldn't let her down this time, that he'd waited, like he should have that day, the day that changed the course of both their lives forever

Even though they were together now, Jack couldn't help wondering what things would have been like for them if he had. She would have been in L.A. already, with a better job, and possibly even a college degree; they might even be married, with a couple of kids. He still would have left, still wouldn't have been there to protect her from Wayne, but he could have eased her suffering by letting her know that he loved her, that she wasn't alone, even if it felt like it sometimes.

He couldn't change the past; he couldn't even make it hurt less, but he could do that for her tonight. It wouldn't be easy, for either of them, but it was what they both needed. Once it was over, they could finally start their new life.

Kate wouldn't get off until at least ten, and Jack knew that she would want to go back to the motel and shower before meeting him, so when he arrived at a quarter to, he climbed onto the rock where they'd sat together as kids, and watched the cars go by for a while. Running his fingers over the smooth stone, he could still feel the grooves where they'd carved their initials with a scalpel they'd taken from his father's practice: KJ + JS. But instead of surrounding them with a heart, like the other kids in their class, Kate had written B.F.F. underneath, underscoring it several times.

Best friends forever.

That was maybe a week or so before his parents announced their divorce, before his mother told him they were leaving. It was amazing, how quickly things changed, and changed back: one day they were best friends, the next, she hated him. Twenty years passed, he was drawn back by forces beyond his control, and everything changed again. She still hated him, but then, before either of them had time to realise what was happening, they were falling in love, and she was coming back to L.A. He just hoped that things between them would stay the same after tonight, that she would understand, and forgive him for hurting her. He couldn't lose her again, but he couldn't watch her wither away either, because it amounted to the same thing in the end.

Jack was so busy thinking about Kate, that he didn't hear her approach, looking up to see her standing in front of him, her damp curls backlit by the moonlight, her features even more striking now that her stitches were gone.

"Hey," she said, smiling that gentle smile she seemed to reserve just for him now, her jade-green eyes shining brightly in the darkness.

"Hey," he replied, a pang gripping his heart. She looked happy, excited even. It pained him, the knowledge of what he was going to do, of where he was taking her. She wouldn't be smiling at him like that if she knew.

"I used to sit right where you are when I wrote you those letters," she said, moving closer, tracing the carving lightly with her index finger. She barely had to look; she seemed to know every stroke by heart. "I knew you weren't coming back by then, but it made me feel closer to you."

She sounded so wistful, so sad all of a sudden, that Jack didn't know what to say, so he just stared down at their initials, until an idea occurred to him, one he hoped might bring the smile back to her face. Silently, he took out his keys, and on impulse, etched a heart into the stone, encircling their inscription, to mark the change in their relationship. They weren't just best friends anymore, though he hoped they still would be, no matter what else happened between them. She had quickly become the most important person in his life again; he wanted her to know, even if he didn't have the words yet.

She looked surprised at first, then wary, but she must have caught something of his earnestness in his eyes, because she smiled, sitting down beside him, her knees drawn up to her chest. Leaning against him, she rested her head on his shoulder, watching the road with him in silence.

"Remember when we used to say that one day that would be us?" she asked after a while.

"Yeah," he agreed, though he knew he wasn't as content as he should be, as she was. As perfect as this moment was, he couldn't help but be distracted, knowing that if he went ahead with his plan, the peace he saw in her now wouldn't last long. He was tempted to forget the whole thing, but tonight was their last night here. If he didn't do it now, that part of her life would still be looming over them in L.A.

"Well, tomorrow it will be," she finished, grinning up at him.

He couldn't bring himself to take away that happiness just yet, so he slid his arm around her shoulders, letting her bask in her excitement for a while. She'd waited thirty-two years for this day, the day that she would finally get to see the world beyond this road. He wanted her to enjoy it as much as possible.

When she spoke again, it was with a slightly more tentative voice. "James came to the diner today," she said, extricating herself from him so that she could watch his expression.

Jack felt his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure if it was jealousy, or just concern for her, but he didn't like the idea that they'd spoken, especially without him there to keep an eye on things. Hadn't James threatened her on the day of the break up?

"It's okay," she said, sensing his tension. She traced the heart with her thumb as she went on. "He heard I was leaving, and he just wanted to say goodbye. He told me he was sorry for what happened the other night, and for all of the times before that." She looked up at him, giving him a small smile as she added, "He also said that you'd take better care of me than he ever could. That it was for the best, because I needed you, and he needed someone like Ana Lucia to keep him in line."

"James said all of that?" Jack asked incredulously. He had a hard time imagining something so selfless and sincere coming out of the other man's mouth.

"Yeah. He can be pretty surprising," she said. "I noticed that after you left. I was so depressed – I spent the first week crying in the bathroom at recess. He wasn't very good at saying the right thing, but he waited outside for me every day.

"That's what I meant the other night. He's not… he's not Wayne. I never would have stayed with him if he was. He's had a rough time too, without his parents. He doesn't always know how to keep his emotions in check."

While Jack knew he would never be able to forgive James's treatment of her, he was glad to hear that their relationship had brought her some good memories, along with the bad. He couldn't bear the thought of her unhappy for so long, without some sort of relief. If it had been him, he knew, he would have followed her into that bathroom, even if it was against school rules, and the other boys teased him, but it meant something to both of them that James had tried. For all his faults, he really had loved her; he just didn't know how to deal with her. He was too damaged himself.

While Kate was obviously making an effort to be honest with him like she promised, she didn't seem to want to dwell on that chapter of her life. Sliding off the rock, she slipped her hand into his to help him up, changing the subject. "So where're we going?" she asked, grinning, when he was on his feet. "I know you said it was a surprise, but you were being so mysterious… you can't blame me for being curious."

Jack felt another pang grip his heart as he realised this was it. It was too late to back out. He was all in now; he just hoped the risk paid off. "You'll see," was all he could bring himself to say as he led her towards the intersection that separated the road from her house.


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for the reviews. Glad you like chapter 23. He couldn't have killed Wayne though, Contorce, because he's already dead. He crashed his truck sixteen years ago, remember?

I'm a woman of my word, so since I promised a kiss this update, I sat down in one mammoth seven-hour session and finished this fic, except for the epilogue, which I will write when I recover. The section that covered Jack's plan was almost 3,000 words all up, so I've split it into three separate chapters, but I'm posting them all today, so don't worry. It was pretty draining though, mentally, and emotionally, and it's summer here, which is physically draining, so I expect reasonable sized reviews to make up for the fact that I'm putting all of it up in one hit. I'm hoping to make it to one hundred this time, so if you'd indulge me on that, I'd really appreciate it.

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Chapter 24. Do You Trust Me? 

It didn't take Kate long to realise where Jack was taking her, the smiled fading from her lips as they drew nearer to the crossroads. She stopped short at the mouth of her old street, turning to him with a haunted expression, her eyes pained and confused. "What is this?"

When he didn't answer right away, she repeated, "Where are we going?" but it wasn't a question this time, because she already knew, her voice rising shrilly as her eyes searched his for an explanation.

Jack had spent the last few days preparing himself for this reaction, so while he couldn't say it didn't bother him, he wasn't surprised by it. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

"I want to go home," she said, her lip trembling as she fought back tears.

"That's where we're going," he told her gently, laying out his treacherous plan, but she shook her head.

"Not there. The motel."

"Kate—" he began, but before he could argue, she looked at him imploringly, her eyes brimming with tears, as she whispered, "Please don't make me do this, Jack. I can't." She took a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself as she added, "I just want to go to L.A. and forget any of it ever happened."

He was hurting her, just liked he'd known he would, but he couldn't stop now, or that would be all he had achieved. He had to push her past the pain, to the point where it became cathartic. "Okay," he allowed, seeing the relief on her face as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, "but you have to promise me you'll put the house on the market. The land's probably worth more than the actual structure now, but the point is to forget it, right? So let's forget it."

It was a reasonable argument, one that would normally have won out, but there was nothing reasonable about Kate's attachment to that house. She shook her head slowly, her eyes growing desperate again as she realised she was cornered. If she didn't agree to sell the house, he would force her to go back there, and she couldn't do either; she couldn't forget, in spite of her brave words.

"You don't have to do it right away, Kate," he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and this time, she didn't withdraw. "But that place is a money pit. You can't afford to hold onto it, especially from L.A. That's not what your mom would have wanted."

"It doesn't matter what she wanted, Jack, she's dead." He could tell she was trying to be stoic, but her defences weren't strong enough to withstand such an onslaught.

"And you're not," he said firmly, determined not to let the hurt in her eyes keep him from doing what he needed to do. "Which is why we have to do this. You can't start thinking about the future until you've let go of the past."

Her throat convulsed with suppressed sobs, making it impossible for her to speak, so he pulled her into his arms, letting her collapse against his chest, her warm tears staining his shirt. Holding her while she cried, he tried to communicate to her silently that she didn't have to be strong anymore, because he was there to support her when she couldn't support herself. She seemed to understand him, because she didn't fight it this time, clinging to him long after her shoulders had stopped shaking.

When she'd gotten herself more or less under control, he murmured, "Do you trust me?" and she nodded, stepping back, and letting him take her hand as he led her down her old street.


	25. Chapter 25

Just a quick note: the other doctor Kate mentions here, the only other one in town, is Jack's godfather, and Christian's partner at the practice. I didn't name him in chapter 2, so for all intents and purposes, his name is Benjamin Lewis.

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Chapter 25. Don't Ever Say That 

They took the road slowly, one step at a time, so that Kate could prepare herself for what lay ahead. Jack felt her grip on his hand tighten as the house came into view, looming over them like the haunted castle in a fairytale.

He drew them both to a stop at the end of the driveway, dropping Kate's hand and stepping away from her so that she could have a moment to herself. She stared at the house, tight lipped, her eyes clouding over with a look that was half hatred, half grief, confronting the memories that had been eating away at her for sixteen years.

He couldn't help her with this part, so he stood back, close enough to lend his support, but not so close that he was crowding her. He would be there when she needed him, whether that was in five minutes, or an hour.

She moved slowly around the house, circling the perimeter, but she wasn't ready to go in, not while everything was still the same. Jack figured that was probably too much like stepping into the past for her, so he didn't push her, following her silently, stopping when she stopped, waiting for the moment when she addressed him again.

When they reached the driveway again, she turned to him, nodding towards two items he'd brought there while she was at work. "They're not ours," she said.

"I know." Jack laced his fingers through hers, leading her over to the patch of grass where he'd left two tin watering cans.

Wordlessly, he handed one to her, and she peered into it, giving him a confused look as she sniffed the contents.

"Is that…?"

"Kerosene," he finished for her. "One of the most combustible substances known to man."

"Is that why you brought me here?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But only if you want to. We can still sell it if you'd prefer."

She looked back at the house, her expression darkening, her sorrow turning to rage as her eyes flicked over it, lingering on the room where her parents had slept. "I want to."

Before either of them had the chance to back out, she marched across the lawn, watering can still in hand, not even bothering to cover the glass as she crawled in through the broken window. Jack picked up the other can and followed at a more reasonable pace, meeting her in the bedroom, where she stood, surveying her surroundings with a look that could almost have set the blaze itself.

She didn't meet his eyes as she said, "I was fourteen when it started. I was so afraid of getting pregnant that I went on the pill. Dr. Lewis – Ben – was out of town, so I had to go to your father. It didn't matter either way – they both knew me.

"His expression never changed, the whole time I was there. I can't imagine what he thought of me."

She was so calm now; Jack swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he struggled to ask, "You didn't tell him, did you, Kate?" He couldn't believe his father knew. He'd known for eighteen years, and he hadn't done a damn thing. He hadn't even told him.

She shook her head. "Why would I? Anything I told him would be confidential, right? He couldn't do anything with that information except judge me." She shook her head again, this time to try to regain the composure she'd possessed only a moment before. It didn't work, because her voice broke as she continued, shattering Jack's heart along with it. "It was better that he thought… whatever he thought. If he knew, then he really wouldn't have thought I was good enough."

She turned to him for the first time since he'd joined her in the room, flashing him the sardonic, self-deprecating smile he'd grown to hate so much. "Guess it's a good thing he's dead, huh?"

Jack had to take a deep breath to keep the bile from returning as he realised that he was part of the reason she'd kept silent all these years. She hadn't wanted him to find out, him or his family, but in such a small town, it was hard to keep something so scandalous a secret. So she'd said nothing. She hadn't been protecting Wayne, or her mother; she'd been protecting him, just like she had that first day on the playground, when she'd offered to beat that kid up for him.

She was scaring him now, not just with her revelations about the past, but her perspective on them, so he set the kerosene down, pulling her close. It was different this time though, because it wasn't Kate who needed reassurance. He'd thought he could be strong for her, that he could help her face up to the past, but the deeper they delved into it, the more he began to feel like it was swallowing him up too.

He wasn't aware that he was crying, but he must have been, because he felt Kate rubbing his back in slow, rhythmic circles, murmuring, "It's okay, it's okay, there's nothing you could have done," softly against his ear. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together, and she released him, not all the way, but enough for them to meet each other's eyes.

"You okay?" she asked softly, and he nodded, taking a few more breaths before he could speak.

When he was in control again, he fixed her with his fiercest gaze. "Don't ever say that again," he warned her, his voice so low and angry that he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"That it's a good thing your father's dead?" she repeated timidly, backtracking to the comment she thought had hurt him so badly.

"No. That you're not good enough for me."

She looked taken aback, so he went on, saying, "Remember the day we met? On the playground?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Matthew Tate pushed you off the fort."

He smiled, his anger subsiding as he brushed the back of his hand over his eyes. It had been years since he'd been able to remember the name of the kid who'd pushed him, even though he still wore the scar. He was surprised, and touched, that she hadn't forgotten, even though it had happened to him.

"He's in prison now," she said, turning his smile into a full-fledged grin. "Assault."

She grinned back, apparently pleased that she could still cheer him up so abruptly. "What about it?"

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about, and then he said seriously, "I was sitting there screaming and bleeding into the sand, and everyone ignored me. Everyone except you. So don't ever say you're not good enough for me, because you're the only one who is." She looked away, embarrassed, but he cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him as he added gently, "You took care of me, Kate. That's why I wanted to do this for you tonight. I wanted to take care of you."

She nodded her acquiescence, and he thought she finally understood that he wasn't trying to hurt her. He was trying to save her.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26. Twenty Years

Having reached an understanding about what they'd come there to do, they picked up their watering cans again, moving from room to room as they doused the curtains, the walls, the furniture, the floors, every flammable surface, with kerosene.

They didn't talk, each focused on their own thoughts, but every so often Kate would stop and look at him, and Jack would follow her gaze to Diane's sewing machine, or the marks on the wall where they'd measured her growth, or her mom's favourite chair, where she'd sat in her lap, reading with her, or watching TV, on the rare occasions that Wayne wasn't home. These walls held good memories for her too, memories of her mother, even if they were few and far between, and tainted by Wayne's presence. Jack could tell that she didn't want to let go of those parts too, but they both knew that if they were going to do this, it was all or nothing. She couldn't pick and choose what they destroyed.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she dumped kerosene over each of these things in the end, showing the same stoicism he'd seen in her when she shot her horse all those years ago. She'd already salvaged the things Jack knew she couldn't live without – letters, pictures, her mother's jewellery, the things Diane had kept from when she was a baby – back when she'd first moved out of the house. Everything else was just kindling.

When they'd been through the whole house, and the cans were empty, they climbed back out through the window, returning to their previous place on the lawn. Taking her hand, Jack pressed a box of matches into it, closing her fingers around it.

She looked up at him, then down at the box in her palm, not longer sure of herself.

"I'll go first if you want," he offered, but she shook her head, her courage returning as she said, "I have to do this."

Her whole body was shaking as she opened the box, her hands trembling so violently that Jack had to hold it for her while she struck the first match. It didn't even spark, the second dying instantly, leaving her so frustrated that Jack was tempted to take over. But on her third attempt, she managed to get the match burning, stepping towards the house, her hard expression illuminated by the light of the flame.

She looked back at him, hesitating, and he nodded, urging her on. She was right; she had to do this. They both did.

With a savage cry, she hurled the match through the broken bedroom window, a tiny, satisfied smile spreading over her face as the room erupted into flames, igniting one end of the house.

As the front wall crumbled, Jack threw a second match into the house, pulling Kate back to the driveway, and shielding her with his body, as the kitchen went up, the gas sparking an explosion that blew out the rest of the windows.

There was nothing they could do after that but stand there and watch it burn. Even if the fire department had showed up right then, the house was unsalvageable. It was finally over.

Straightening up again, Jack slid his arm around Kate's shoulders, but instead of setting into his side like before, she turned to face him, pulling him down towards her. Before he had time to realise what was happening, she was kissing him, there in the ruins of her old life, while the flames crackled and roared behind them, taking down the house that had been the source of so much torment to her.

He couldn't meet her eyes at first, afraid he would discover that she was just being needy and vulnerable like on that first night at the motel, but when she pulled back, and he finally looked at her, he saw only love and gratitude reflected there.

Grinning, he rested his forehead against hers, catching his breath, and allowing her to do the same. Just like he'd imagined, it was better the second time, not fumbling and awkward like the kiss they'd shared when they were twelve.

Once their chests had stopped heaving, and they were both breathing normally again, he leaned back in, kissing her without any fears or inhibitions this time, all of the frustration of the past few days finding its way into the action.

Like the kiss she'd instigated, it started off slow, tentative, their lips barely touching, but it grew in passion as they poured everything they'd experienced together and apart, as a result of each other, into it. Jack could still taste the salt of all the tears she'd shed tonight on her lips, and he was pretty sure she could taste his too, making the kiss even more amazing because of what they'd had to go through to get to that moment.

He could have stayed that way all night, drinking in the softness of her lips, the scent of her skin, the warmth of her body against his, but she pulled away first, bracing a hand against his chest to keep him from moving in again right away. "Thank you," she said, still breathing hard as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with joyful tears this time. "What you did for me tonight… I can't describe it. I feel like you've done so much for me these past few days, and I haven't done anything."

"That's not true," he told her, sliding his arms around her, and pulling her to his chest. If he couldn't kiss her again yet, he wanted to at least be close to her. "You're coming to L.A."

"That's not exactly a sacrifice on my part." She moved her hand, settling against him, her words muffled against his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter, because I don't want anything from you. I just want you to be happy. I love you, Kate. I always have." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn't regret what he'd said, especially when she murmured, "I love you too," lifting her head to meet his lips again.

He couldn't regret it, because after twenty long years, she was finally his. And he was finally taking her home.

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There. I've put you all out of your misery. Was it worth the wait? I was a little disappointed that some of you predicted the ending halfway through – I really thought it was original. I hope you liked it though, because I built the whole fic around the idea – I got it from the Coldplay song, A Rush of Blood to the Head. For those of you not familiar with it, the part I'm talking about goes: 

_He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down_

_I'm gonna put it six feet underground_

_He said I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall_

_Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls_

_Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire_

_Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires_

_Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn_

_Do back the things it did to you in return_

I loved the symbolism, so I thought it would be fun to write a story around it. When I realised how well the idea fit in with these characters, I decided to make it a Lost fic. It's not Lost-specific though, and I'm really proud of it, so I'm thinking of extending it, and changing some of the details, and maybe turning it into a book. The same song inspired the title too by the way.

One more thing:

I wasn't going to write another fic for a while, but I had an idea I wanted to run by you guys. I was thinking of calling it A Rock And A Hard Place, and it was basically going to be about Jack helping Kate (I know, I'm addicted to Jate stories!) go on the run again when the rescue ships arrive. (They were going to use Desmond's boat.) I thought it would be an interesting role reversal, her wanting to turn herself in, and him not wanting to let her go. I wasn't sure love would be a good enough reason for him to compromise everything else in his life though, so I was thinking that maybe she should be pregnant – he'd be trying to keep his family together then, which gives him plenty of inner conflict – but I've heard some of you say you're sick of Jaby stories, so if you've got any other ideas for motivation, I'd love to hear them. Message me, or include them in your reviews if you like.


	27. Chapter 27

Thank you all so much for your reviews. I told you you should trust me, especially on the kiss. It just felt so much more epic and romantic for them to share their first real kiss in front of the backdrop of the burning house.

Here is the promised epilogue. It's short, but since the story started with Jack arriving into town, I thought it needed to end with him leaving, in order to bring it full circle. It also gives you an idea of what the future holds for them in L.A.

Thank you also for all of your comments on my new idea. I love your suggestion mikachoo, so I'm taking that into consideration. To my way of thinking, the two biggest sources of conflict in Jack's past are his father and Sarah, the latter being something that Kate will inevitably help with. It would fit in well with the idea of him helping her run, because he doesn't handle failure well, so I think he would go to pretty extreme lengths to prevent another failed marriage / relationship. As for his father though, the only way I can think to address that is to make him a father himself, or a future father, which brings us back to the Jaby, so let me know if you have any thoughts on that. Yellosh is right, a pregnancy doesn't necessarily have to equal a Jaby, so I may still be able to write it that way without unleashing another little Hope, Faith, Jayla or Jayden into the world... Nothing's decided yet though, so keep the suggestions coming.

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Chapter 27. Someone To Look Up To

They watched the house burn down until there was nothing left but embers, the fire they'd set eradicating every trace of the life Kate had tried for twenty years to leave behind.

The sun was beginning to rise by then, the first rays of dawn casting light over the now vacant lot, making her smile peacefully for the first time since Jack had known her. She was happy this morning; not just the momentary kind of happy she'd been when they swam in the creek, or talked together at the diner, but a new, complete, eternal kind of happy. For the first time in her life, she was content.

Free.

It was a new look for her, one that warmed Jack's heart as they walked back to the motel in silence, her arm around his waist, her head on his shoulder, her smile radiating a glow that could have rivalled the early morning sun. It was funny; he'd stayed in town to make sure she was she was happy, never realising how dependant his own happiness would become on hers.

By the time they let themselves into the room, it was too late to go to bed, so they loaded her stuff into the car, along with his luggage, settling in for the long drive back to L.A.

"Have you given any thought to what you'll do when we get there?" he asked as they pulled out of the car park, heading for the road that had been the centre of so many of their childhood dreams.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her tone suggesting that she was a little embarrassed, but she went on anyway. "I was thinking I might finally go to college. Not Berkeley or anything," she added quickly, "but maybe U.C.L.A."

Jack smiled, nodding to let her know that he thought it was a good idea. She wasn't eighteen anymore, but he didn't think that that should stop her from fulfilling her dreams. She was one of the smartest people he knew, one of the smartest people he'd ever known. It would have been a shame for her to waste that as a waitress at another diner. "Know what you'll study?" he asked. She was trying to sound casual, vague, but he could tell that she'd given this a lot of thought over the past few days.

She blushed, staring out of the passenger side window before answering. "I was thinking I might become a teacher, or a social worker," she said, turning back to him with a tentative smile. "That way I could help kids like me, maybe even give them what you gave me – what I never had before."

It was Jack's turn to be embarrassed now. "What's that?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't conceal his pride at hearing these words, and knowing that he was still having such a profound effect on her.

"Someone to look up to."

Surprised and moved, Jack caught her eye, and she smiled, silently insisting that he'd never know how much he'd done for her, how much he'd changed her.

He grinned back, realising for the first time the irony of their relationship. When they were growing up, all he'd ever wanted was to be like her, to share her conviction, her courage. She was his hero; everything he'd become was because of her. It had never occurred to him that she would feel the same way.


End file.
